


Amata

by theironyouth



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 48,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theironyouth/pseuds/theironyouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adaira Trevelyan, recent apostate, and sister of the Herald of Andraste, is assigned to oversee operations carried out by the Bull's Chargers. Far from everything she has known, she is confronted with a brutal war and a burgeoning fear that her new-found freedom will cost her everything it has shown her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bull's Chargers

Adaira Trevelyan was used to being confined, but to be currently denied visitation to her sister was an entirely different thing. "I am her sister, her  _twin_  sister, tell me where she is!" There was no denying their relation to anyone who had seen either of them; it was impossible for her to be a pretender.

"I am sorry, my lady, but under Seeker Pentaghast's orders, she is not to be disturbed." The soldier crossed his arms over his chest, spreading his stance in defiance. Adaira considered giving the man a shock- an explosion had left countless dead, and they wanted to keep her away from her sister, a woman now being hailed as the Herald of Andraste? Ludicrous.

"What is going on?" a woman asked. Nevarran, by her accent. Adaira turned, frowning at her as she approached. Short black hair, a scar across her jaw, the mark of the Seekers on her chest.

"Seeker Pentaghast, I assume. I am looking for my sister. I have been told she was the only survivor of the Conclave. Some believe she was saved by Andraste herself."

The other woman's chin tilted upward as she looked Adaira over. "I was not aware she had a sister, but the resemblance..."

"Speaks for itself," Adaira could only barely contain an eyeroll. "Will you tell me where she is? I don't wish to disturb her sleep, but I would at least like to see her."

Pentaghast's lips pressed into a thin line as she considered the question. "Very well, come with me." She motioned before striding forward. She led up through the gates, and off to the side, along the wooden fortifications. "She has not woken since she sealed a rift at the Temple. Our healers do not know why, they can not find anything wrong with her."

Adaira nodded, slow. She had heard of a mark on her sister's palm. If there had been magic flowing through it, the shock could have caused her present situation, but that left no clues on how to help her now. Pentaghast pushed open the door to a small building, before letting out a gasp. "You're awake?"

Adaira pushed the Seeker out of the way, ignoring her grunt of disapproval. "Adanna," she let out a low breath and rushed to her sister, embracing her.

"Adaira? You're supposed to be at Ostwick," Adanna pulled back, frowning as she took her sister's shoulders and inspecting her. "What happened?"

Adaira paused before speaking. "Templars attacked the tower. We were forced to flee. Those... Of us who survived were hiding out in the wilds, but when I heard of the Conclave, I knew someone from our family would be there. I didn't make it in time, but I heard that you were brought here."

"Where are we now?" Adanna looked over to Cassandra, who was watching, arms crossed.

"Haven. Come, Herald. We have business to attend to," she made a stiff motion with her shoulders.

"Rest, Adaira. I'll return when they're done with me," Adanna said, stepping around her sister toward Cassandra. Adaira frowned, but did have to admit that the bed did look enticing.

* * *

 

The events at Val Royeaux did not sit well with Adanna, Adaira could tell that much. Their family had always been religious, and being branded as a heretic by the Chantry in person had taken its toll. To see a Templar assault a Mother before the order departed, denouncing both the Chantry and the Inquisition made it all worse. It didn't sit well with Adaira, either, but then, the Chantry had kept her locked in a tower for over a decade. The return to Haven had been somber, only Solas and Varric offering hushed conversation. With Adanna convening with the other council members, Adaira was free for the afternoon. She strode out of the Chantry doors, her steps slowing as she paused to take in Haven. She had a hard time stomaching the cold stone walls of the Chantry for too long.

"Excuse me," a man called, and Adaira turned to face him. He was unfamiliar, and the armor he wore was not that of the Inquisition, as far as she knew. "I've got a message for the Inquisition, but I'm having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me," he stepped closer, a touch of frustration written on his brow.

Adaira nodded understanding. With what had just happened in Orlais, everyone was a bit preoccupied. "Who are you, soldier?"

"Cremisius Aclassi, of the Bull's Chargers mercenary company. We mostly work out of Orlais and Navarra. We got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander, Iron Bull, offers the information free of charge. If the Herald would like to see what the Bull's Chargers can do for the Inquisition, she should meet us there, and watch us work."

"Good to meet you, Cremisius. I'll let my sister know of Iron Bull's proposal. Be sure to restock before your return journey. If you have any trouble with the alchemist, come find me." He nodded and Adaira turned away, back into the Chantry.

* * *

When Adaira had volunteered to accompany her sister to the Storm Coast, she hadn't taken the area's name literally. That was her mistake.

When she first felt the rain, it was a delight- refreshing and a reminder that she was free, away from the Circle for the foreseeable future, and there was certainly a savage beauty in the violently rolling waves, but it didn't take long for the rain to seep through her hood and under the leather armor she had been given. She shivered against the wind, even standing next to the fire. She had elected to heat herself with some precarious fire magic and seek shelter under a tent.

Before meeting with the Chargers, Adanna insisted on looking over maps, speaking with Harding about the area and what she had found. It wasn't much, but the camp was settled next to an Oraculum, which Harding had not been able to figure out for the life of her, nor Adanna when she peered into the glowing hole in the back of the skull. If Solas was unable to figure it out, Adaira would give it a look later; she was far too busy at that moment, pouting under the tent that covered the alchemy table.

"I thought you were excited to see the world again," Adanna said as she stepped over to her, checking the potion flasks at her belt.

"I didn't realize it involved being subjected to this," she waved a hand about, grumpy.

"You're a Mage, do something about it."

Adaira looked at her, expression flat, before turning back the sea, and then the path to the shore. She certainly didn't want to leave the protection of the tent, but she wasn't going to let her sister meet a mercenary group alone, either. She tilted her head, indicating the steep path, and pulled her hood back up, hoping to keep more of the slaking rain from her face.

"Herald," Cassandra stepped toward her and then stopped, shaking her head. "My apologies, my lady. Herald," she looked to Adanna. "The Chargers are just down on the beach."

"Well, Seeker, let's head down, shall we?"

The path was steep, and the pebbles that lined it were slick with the incessant rain, but the small group traveled down without incident. Varric had come as well, while Solas elected to stay and fiddle with the Ocularium. They were now closer to the bellow of the waves, which threw themselves alongside the coast before breaking over more rocks in a cataclysm of spray and foam. "Is that all there is here? Rocks and wetness?"

"It would be a great setting for a story," Varric mused, and Adaira caught a malicious glint in Cassandra's eye.

"There," Adanna pointed to a group of soldiers on the beach, their camp it would seem, for whatever reason. They were already engaged in battle, but that had been the point of calling Adanna to the coast. She was already pulling her greatsword from its sheath, even as Cassandra opened her mouth to inquire about helping. From a distance Adaira could make out a massive Qunari with an impressive horn span. There were others, smaller, but widely varied in shape and size. One was throwing a massive maul around as though it were a toy. "Come sister, before you grow moldy," Adanna tossed a grin over her shoulder.

Pulled from her observations, Adaira found Cassandra already leaping into the fray, Varric beside her, Bianca already twanging happily.

Adaira's hands flew up, glowing with soft blue light as she cast a barrier around Cassandra, who had just raised her shield to block the first blow of a Tevinter. The same ward was cast over Adanna, even as she disappeared from view. She thought for a moment about casting a spell over the Chargers as well, and she reached back for a lyrium potion, only to stop. Invincibility wouldn't show them what the Chargers could do. It was better to let them fight as they usually did. She would intervene if she had to. Her hands didn't drop, however, as she searched out the men wearing Charger colors. It was all a clash of drab armor, but there was a pattern to the fighting.

Searching out, she could feel the power in the air, the imbalance of charges. It was easier with the raging storm overhead, and she appreciated it for a moment before a stray drop from her hood splashed onto her nose, causing a shiver to interrupt her focus. Commander Illya would be so disappointed. She focused again, picking her targets. This would be difficult- everyone was wet, everyone was wearing metal, and everyone was a good distance away. The woosh of an arrow brought her out of her head, and without a second though, she jerked an arm down. A bolt of lightning cracked down, producing a blinding flash. The man seized and twisted as he fell. She could feel eyes on her, and another wave of her hand produced a barrier around her own body. Another arrow shattered against the magic.

Another archer, his bow raised, another breath and call of lightning, shuffling of the air. A bright flash, and he was dead, smoke rising from his corpse. She felt herself recoil, but he was far enough away that she couldn't smell him, at least.

She caught sight of a Vint with a tower shield raised- the Chargers had him outnumbered, but he would still put up a fight. Unless- another bright flash, followed by a terrible boom of thunder and he crumpled, his shield falling with him. As she turned to find her next target, the last of them fell to the blades of her sister and the Chargers. She dropped her hands, clenching at the sides of her wet robes. She could hear the large qunari call out, but missed his words under the weight of the storm. Adanna, who still held her blade at the ready, turned and tilted her head, indicating that it was at least reasonably safe for her to approach. Adaira let out a low breath and she strode down the beach. She didn't enjoy standing to the side while her sister threw herself into the fight, but Adanna had been insistent, and she had to agree- wasn't a full-fledged Knight-Enchanter yet, as evident by her hesitation.

"Krem!" He shouted, and Adaira watched as the man from Haven tucked his hands behind his back. "How'd we do?"

"Five or six wounded, Chief, no dead," he answered. Adaira took a glance around at the mercenaries. The Venatori did do some damage. One man sat against a barrel, most of his face already red, eyes starting to swell closed. Other than those injured, the company seemed to be well-outfitted.

"That's what I like to hear!" the Iron Bull's walk could easily have been described as a swagger as he moved closer to his lieutenant. "Let the throatcutters finish up, then break out the casks." Krem gave a curt nod and stepped away.

"That was impressive," Adanna said, blade still drawn. The qunari before her was a giant, head and shoulders well over the both of them, with a horn-span as wide as his shoulders. The scars on his chest bespoke of a violent past. But then, he was a qunari. The others in his company were oddly varied- humans, elves, Adaira could swear she saw a dwarf.

"So, you're with the Inquisition, huh? Glad you could make it. Come on, have a seat. Drinks are coming." The Iron Bull motioned slightly with his hand, and he and Adanna stepped away from the group. Adaira watched, wary, but the qunari sat once they were out of earshot. She hadn't met qunari before, but she assumed they were just as dangerous sitting as standing.

"You can relax- the Chief's not gonna try anything. He'd have already done it, if he were," Krem commented as he walked past, back toward the Iron Bull and Adaira. His words didn't settle her nerves, however, and her fingers curled, measuring up the air's propensity for producing a few more bolts of lightning. She edged closer as well, watching the Iron Bull cast a quick glance in her direction.

"I assume you remember Cremissius Aclassi," he motioned.

"No, he spoke with Adaira," Adanna motioned.

"Twins! Nice," the Iron Bull grinned. "I mean, from a tactical standpoint. Makes for a good diversion. Keep your enemies confused."

"Good to meet you, Herald," Krem tilted at the waist slightly. "Throatcutters are done, Chief."

"Already? Have 'em check again. I don't want any of those Tevinter bastards getting away. No offense, Krem."

"None taken," Krem said, genial, "Least a bastard knows who his mother was. Puts us one up on you qunari, right?" He turned away, teasing his commander as he moved back toward the rest of the Chargers. They had broken open a cask while Krem was away.

Adanna motioned, looking pointedly at Adaira. The Iron Bull had separated them for a reason. Adaira didn't like it, but she followed Krem back to where Cassandra and Varric were standing near the rest of the chargers. She kept her eyes on them, however, noting that Cassandra was watching as well.

"Could your spells reach him from here?" She asked, eyes turning to Adaira.

"Sure," she nodded, "but I don't think I'd be able to stop him entirely. It would give her a chance to get away, though. Or at least get her sword out." Things seemed to be going amicably enough, however- Adanna appeared to be grinning. She wondered if lightning would affect qunari the same, or if they required longer exposure.

There were several more minutes before the Iron Bull rose, and Adaira turned, fingers curling again, but he and Adanna both approached the camp. "Krem!" he called, "Tell the men to finish drinking on the road; the Chargers just got hired!"

"What about the casks, Chief? We just opened them up. With axes."

"Find some way to seal 'em. You're Tevinter, right? Try blood magic. We'll meet you back at Haven, Herald," the Iron Bull said as he moved back toward the Chargers' camp.

"All right then, come on," Adanna tilted her head and turned to head back up the cliff. "Let's go find out if Solas figured out that creepy skull."


	2. The Hinterlands

Adaira wasn’t often privy to the chats that involved Adanna and the other Inquisition leaders, but Adanna had wanted her opinion on the Templars and rogue mages to balance out Cullen’s. He was a good man, but there was no denying his view favored the Templars. Regardless of her presence, they had made precious little progress on the debate, and so had turned their attention to other matters. Cullen leaned on the war table, his expression hard. “I know you’ve come to trust the Iron Bull, but that doesn’t mean all of his soldiers are as trustworthy. I won’t have you galavanting around with them, not while you’re our only hope of sealing these rifts, and I won’t send them on assignments unsupervised.”

“I can’t say the Chargers will take that well,” Adanna inspected her nails, her tone dismissive. Cullen’s face hardened as he watched her disinterest. She let out a low breath and looked up at him. “Who do we have to spare?”

“Me,” Adaira offered. “Josephine said that we are in no position to approach the mages or the Templars, regardless of our choice. But we will gain momentum quicker if you send me out to assist in the Hinterlands.” There were camps to be settled, rebels and bandits to be handled. Adanna had wanted to send the Chargers out to clear the desired locations, but Cullen had raised an issue. They both turned to her now. She shrugged. “I have been here for weeks, doing nothing but shivering. You send your other agents out to do any number of tasks-- gather rocks, speak with ambassadors. I am here. Use me.”

Adanna looked to Cullen, whose lips were pressed into a thin line as he considered. Adaira got the feeling that he didn’t like her. A mage running free was likely his worst nightmare, sister to the Herald or not. Templars. “All right,” he nodded. “If we have you, we may as well use you.” Adaira couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her lips, despite his frown. “Go and see what the armorer has for you. We can’t take the chance of someone killing you and proclaiming they killed the Herald.”

“I would think the glowing hand would give it away.” Adanna crossed her arms, but Adaira was already leaving, pretending that there wasn’t an excited buzz creeping through her chest.

* * *

She had to admit that trying to sleep on the ground was harder than she might have liked. The Tower may have been a prison, but at least there were beds, and at least there were cots at established camps. She couldn’t remember why they hadn’t stopped at one. Rolling over one last time, Adaira gave up with a grunt of frustration. She'd have to remember to check for rocks when they made camp the next evening. She pulled on her boots before pushing aside the tent flap and stepping into the autumn air.

Cremisius was on guard, and glanced at her as she moved to the fire to stare blandly at the cracking flames. "Having a hard time adjusting?" he asked over his shoulder. She could have sworn there was a note of judgement in his voice. She flicked a glare in his direction, but he didn’t appear to be put off, if he had even been able to see it.

"Yes," she admitted. "A bed of rocks never was my preferred sleeping place."

"Ah, rocks. They never get any softer, but you do get better at checking for them." She was convinced he was laughing at her.

"Good to know," she said, moving away from the fire to stand closer to the edge of their camp. Her eyes turned upward, and they were quiet for a few moments. She was imagining the judgement-- she had to be. Then again, Cremisius seemed to have a number of stories involving ridiculous nobles with this need or that want, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was going to be one of them.

“There was this one noble mage who insisted on coming with us. Didn’t know a thing about life other than the Circle, but she wanted some adventure. Ended up getting roasted by a dragon, that one.”

She felt like a child finding out adventure wasn’t all dragon slaying and lady-saving. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of him moving. "So, what do Circle mages do with all their spare time?" he asked, coming to stand beside her and look up at the stars as well. His voice was quiet, presumably to avoid disturbing their sleeping fellows. “I can’t imagine that you’re terribly busy locked in a tower for your whole life.”

Adaira took in a breath and tried to think of something interesting. Something like being chased through a spider-infested cave by a very angry giant. "Read, mostly. Work on potion recipes, write-- some nobles love to read mage writings, think being locked in a tower gives us a better perspective on life and the universe or some such nonsense. More poetic, they say, to be locked away from the corrupting influences of the world. Some of us learn to play an instrument, research artifacts or ruins..."

"Sounds boring," Krem commented, frowning.

"Well, it’s certainly not a Charger’s life, but it has its perks for some."

"No one ever tried to break out?"

“Perhaps not in Ostwick, but other places, I'm sure. The First Enchanters collect our blood when we first arrive, and they keep it in a phylactery to hunt us down, should we ever actually escape." She wondered, for a moment, what had become of hers. If there was a Templar wearing it around his neck, hunting by otherwise forbidden magic.

"What did you do?"

"I read," she gave a shrug. "My time there wasn't that thrilling. There isn't much to tell. After my Harrowing, I was offered to be trained as a Knight Enchanter, and I took it. If a Trevelyan must be a mage, they mustn't just sit around; they must still find a way to serve the Chantry," she quirked her lip. "That's what Mother said, anyway. And it would have gotten me out of the Circle. What about you? How did you come to be a Charger?"

"Bull found me in a tavern, cornered by a Tribune and about to be made an example of. He saved my life and gave up an eye. I figured joining up was the least I could do. Been with him ever since."

"Why were you going to be made an example of?" She asked, looking over to him. It was an invasive question, perhaps, but if she was going to travel with Krem, Adaira wanted to know. The Chargers seemed to trust one another, but she didn’t have years spent in their midst.

"I'm a deserter," he said with a low sigh. "Was fleeing the country when they finally caught up with me on a border town."

“And Bull took you in anyway?”

“He saw who I really was. Had some problems with the Tevinter army I don’t have with the Chargers. What did you read about?” The topic shift was abrupt, and Adaira looked back up to the skies.

“Stories and legends when I first got there. Children’s stories, knights and dragons and such. Adventure stories, travel logs. History and astronomy, later; I studied maps and imagined--” she paused, directing her thoughts elsewhere, “History--. Happening, the locations.” She felt his eyes turn to her, but she kept looking up and hoped the flush of her cheeks didn’t show.

“Stories about being rescued from towers?” That teasing tone was back, and her face burned hotter.

“Maybe just a few,” she admitted after a long moment. “I grew out of them.”

* * *

The villagers and refugees of the Crossroads seemed to have a hundred different needs, though few were willing to ask for the them directly. It was the guards primarily, beleaguered and desperate for relief that came to Adaira. Bandit stashes for blankets, ramsmeat, healing herbs-- it was not the most thrilling of work, but the Chargers were paid regardless of whether they picked flowers or killed bandits, and Adaira heard no complaints. While that didn’t mean they weren’t said, money was money, she supposed. Most importantly perhaps, they were freeing up the main body of the Inquisition for other movements.

“The bards will sing tales of our deeds for centuries,” Cremisius said.

"Should I find us some spiders?" Adaira said, more preoccupied with the device before her than interested in the conversation. The journal nearby said it had been made by an old Tevinter cult. She could vaguely remember reading about the old Imperium cults, but how the machine worked was still beyond her. Her fingers slid along the gold ring that encircled the device, looking for some catch, a lever. Cremisius was watching her, she could feel it. She was unimpressive, she knew-- just some silly noble in over her head. She didn't need some Vint thinking it, too. She let out a small sound of surprise as the object swirled, and she caught the surprised jerk of her companion from the corner of her eye.

The orb glowed, blue and bright before it opened, revealing an image of a section of the night sky. Cremisius stepped over and peered down into the device with Adaira. “It’s-- Judex,” she frowned, trying to figure out the magic involved with the device.

“Judex?”

“An old constellation. You’ve never--?” She looked up to him, surprised. “No, I suppose not,” her fingers tapped against the construct’s sides before she turned back, finishing the shape. Her hands jerked away as it closed, spinning rapidly before giving off the same blue glow as before, but this time forming two beams. She had no idea where they were headed.

“Odd,” Cremisius frowned. “So, you say it showed you a constellation?”

“It was a starmap, yes. I’ll have to do a bit more research to figure out what they’re supposed to do, but...” She trailed off as she stepped away from the astrarium. “It was interesting, at the least. I’ll let Harding know that they’re something to look out for.”

“Looks like all that reading in the tower’s finally gonna be put to good use, hm?”

“Finally. Do you have any updates?”

“Our men have wiped out the bandit encampments and brought the blankets back; Archers have collected the requested meats, and one messenger brought back the potion recipe, and a prepared vial. Your sister has closed the rift in that cult’s backyard. Last but not least, she has requested that we take care of both the rogue Templars and the rebel mages in Witchwood.”

“Oh, look at that. You’ll get to hit things.”

Krem smirked. “Oh, look at that,” he said, “You’ll get to watch.” He had already turned away, but Adaira felt the flush hot on her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if she was being insulted, or he was making a different joke at her expense.

* * *

Routing the Templars and rebel mages had been a significant effort. The Templars had entrenched themselves along a river while the mages had chosen a cave, marked by unnatural ice that shot out of the landscape. In all, their injuries were minimal, considering the enemies, and the Chargers seemed much more pleased with themselves after the battles. They had taken their leave upon their return to Haven, and many took refuge in the tavern. Adaira had taken to the Chantry, more because it was quiet than because it was any sort of comfort to her. She was troubled, standing off to the side of the battles left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t an archer, and she couldn’t help but feel like too much of her time had been spent learning to limit her power rather than use it. It wasn’t powerful enough-- she wasn’t powerful enough.

“My lady Herald!” Adaira lifted a hand as the man came near, motioning to the war room. “Oh, apologies, my lady,” he stammered, turning a bit too quickly to find the appropriate twin.

“They seem to like calling you that,” Vivienne commented, peering at her from a desk hidden in the corner.

“I wouldn’t mind it so much if my sister’s duties didn’t come with it,” Adaira shrugged, and she could have sworn she saw the corner of Vivienne’s lip turn upward. “As it is, I much prefer my freedom. It’s much harder to let someone down when they don’t see you as touched by Andraste herself.”

“This is true,” she nodded. “Though I do have to wonder why you allow her to send you away with those mercenaries rather than insisting that you guard her yourself. You are a Knight Enchanter, are you not?”

Adaira faltered, taken aback. “I am, or I was going to be. My training was not yet complete. She has others to guard her, such as yourself, and I am of more use elsewhere. Cullen doesn’t trust the mercenaries, and if anyone from the Inquisition is to lead them, it may as well be me. I am...” Adaira paused, motioning as she sought out the proper phrase. “Her left hand, or however you would like to think of it.”

“That is not altogether a bad position to have,” Vivienne conceded. “And what will you do when this is all over?”

Adaira paused, thinking. “I am not sure. The tower at Ostwick was not destroyed, but I am not sure I wish to go back.”

Vivienne let out a low hum, but its meaning was indecipherable. “We will speak later, my dear.” She turned away, nodding to Cassandra, who approached with a stern expression.

“Cassandra,” Adaira addressed the Seeker. “Did you need something?”

“Your sister has requested I give you some instruction on wielding your sword. She tells me that your training was not complete. She was going to have Cullen do it, but I insisted. He has enough men to train. Come,” she tilted her head toward the training grounds.

* * *

Cassandra was a good woman, albeit a touch unforgiving in training. But she was doing it as a favor to Adanna, and Adaira had to be prepared for the next battle. She was tired of standing and casting spells from afar, watching as the Chargers slapped each other on the back and teased one another in playful banter. As it was, Cassandra had left her for the day, but Adaira had decided to lay on the ground, admitting defeat in what was perhaps a less than dignified way. “If you’re here to sweep me off my feet, you’re a little late,” Adaira looked up as a shadow passed over her.

“Aw, shame, that,” Cremisius smirked at her and offered a hand. “Haven’t been in a whole lot of fights, have you? You do tend to stay back a bit during skirmishes.”

“No,” Adaira admitted, allowing herself to be pulled back to her feet. “Mastery of spells comes first, and then I was to be trained in melee.” Embarrassed, she dusted off the back of her shirt, glancing around for something to look at other than Cremisius. The difference in height between them was negligible, perhaps a few inches, but she couldn’t help but feel like a child being forced to look up at him, especially compounded by his assessment of her skills.

“Well, we’ve all gotta start somewhere, yeah?"

“I suppose it does take a while to be as impressive as you, hm? Though there isn't much finesse to be had with a rock tied to a stick." She quirked a brow and he laughed, clapping her on the shoulder. She appreciated the contact, even if it was brief.

"It does take some practice to wield a maul with my grace."

"You wouldn't have time to teach a lady a few tricks, would you?"

“Ah, ‘fraid I don’t use swords much anymore, but I suppose I might be able to make some time for sparring before we go hunting for ramsmeat again.”

She let out a low, dry laugh, risking a glance at him. “Were you looking for me for a reason?”

“Yes, ah-- your sister is ready to travel to Redcliffe. She’s bringing Bull and a small contingency of forces, should things go bad. I wasn’t sure if the word had gotten to you yet.”

“It hadn’t, thank you,” she nodded.

“Do you have another arming sword, or should I tie another rock to a stick?”


	3. In Hushed Whispers

"You can't honestly be thinking of allying with the Templars," Adaira watched Adanna play mindlessly with the map-markers.

She looked up, frowning slightly. "It's their job to destroy magic, to deal with problems. Who knows if the rebel mages would even be able to help with the breach," she reasoned, straightening. "There are no clear innocents in this war, Adaira."

Adaira's brows raised. "There are mage children,” she corrected. “The Templars have never dealt with something like this," she motioned toward the sky with a vague wave. "The mages at least would know the stakes. They, we, know the risks of demons all too well."

"Are you one of them?" Adanna’s brow quirked now and Adaira frowned.

"I’m not hiding away in some tower, am I? I fled rather than be butchered, so perhaps my reasons are different, but I have turned myself over to no authority other than yours. And I have killed Templars."

Adanna blinked and looked down at the map. "You had little choice. You are not a murderer."

"I don't think the Templars will see it like that. It doesn't matter why I did it. I have done it. I continue to do it. I may kill the rebel mage here or there as well, but only when they will not listen to reason. The same offer is not extended to Templars."

"And you have reason."

"Do I?"

"Don't you? They attacked your circle. You defended yourself then, and continue to do so." Adanna paused, and Adaira waited. "Don't you?" she repeated.

"I do," Adaira said after a moment. It was impossible to deny that she felt righteous in killing Templars, but that was not what her sister needed to hear. "I was with the children,” she looked down, but did not continue for a long moment. “The Templars may not have started this war, but they have killed innocents. The mages are just trying to carve out freedom, just trying to find safety. Away from the Chantry. Is that so terrible?"

The door to the war room groaned as it was pushed aside, revealing Cullen and Cassandra. He paused, as if caught off guard, and Adanna replaced the map markers.

"Have you made a decision?" Cassandra asked, ignoring Cullen's hesitation.

"I will go to speak with the mages," Adanna nodded. Cullen's expression tightened, but he nodded. "Cullen, send word to any Templar friends you might have, if you can reason with them, I would not turn down their assistance, too."

The man nodded. "I will do so, though I cannot say many will listen. Still, we do have some survivors from the Conclave who may be of help persuading others."

"Let them know of our intentions. I would not have them accuse us of approaching them under false pretenses," Adanna warned, and Cullen nodded again.

"I do worry that this could be some kind of trap," Cassandra admitted; it was Adanna's turn to nod, but she looked to Adaira.

"Luckily enough, I have a twin, and an idea."

* * *

 

“Announce us,” Adaira said as the booming sound of Redcliffe keep’s main doors being shut echoed behind them. A blonde man approached, unremarkable in appearance, especially flanked as he was by two other, masked Tevinters. Their shapes were meant to inspire fear, that much was obvious, but she wouldn’t allow any trepidation to show through. The sisters had to exude the same amount of confidence. She and Adanna wore the same armor, carried the same sword, and gloves covered their hands. It was a distraction, meant to throw any plots awry.

“The Magister’s invitation was for Mistress Trevelyan only. These others will have to remain here.”

“There are two of us Lady Trevelyans,” Adanna folded her arms over her chest.

“Where the Herald goes, they go,” Adaira said, motioning to Cassandra and Iron Bull. The man before them glanced at them both, frowning. She shrugged. He appeared to decide that it didn’t matter. They were in the middle of Redcliffe castle, after all. There was no hope of the four of them making it out alive if things went sour, no matter their powers, two Heralds or one. He turned to lead them down the hall, the two masked men trailing after their small entourage.

He led them to the main hall, where Alexius sat, pompous and proud with his legs crossed, his son beside him. “My Lord Magister, the agents of the Inquisition have arrived,” their escort said, not without a note of irritation.

Alexius pushed himself out of his seat, glancing between Adaira and Adanna. “My friends, it’s so good to see you again. And your associates, of course. I’m afraid this charade is unnecessary, though,” he motioned to the sisters. “I’m sure we can work out some arrangement that is equitable to all parties, without the need for deception.”

Adanna crossed her arms, ready with a retort when Fiona strode forward, a sharp frown on her features. “Are we mages to have no voice in deciding our fate?”

“Fiona,” Alexius waved at her in dismissal, “You would not have turned your followers over to my care if you did not trust me with their lives.”

“If the Grand Enchanter wants to be a part of these talks, then I welcome her as a guest of the Inquisition,” Adaira said, nodding to the elf, who nodded in return.

“Thank you,” she said, perhaps a touch surprised. Alexius turned, appearing quite put upon, and stepped back toward his stolen seat.

He lowered himself into the chair and stared at the two sisters, still trying to tell them apart. “The Inquisition needs mages to close the breach, and I have them. So, what shall you offer in exchange?”

“Father,” Felix interrupted, “She knows everything.”

Alexius turned to his son, aghast. “What have you done?”

“Your son is concerned that you’re involved with something terrible,” Adanna explained.

“So speaks the thief, the pretender. Did you think you could turn my son against me? You walk into my stronghold, disguised as you are, with your stolen mark-- a gift you don’t even understand-- and think you’re in control? You’re nothing but a mistake.” He glanced between the twins, frantic rage starting to set in.

Adaira’s arms crossed. “If you know so much, enlighten me. Tell me what this mark on my hand is for.”

“It belongs to your betters. You wouldn’t even begin to understand its purpose,” he sneered down at her.

“Father,” Felix interrupted again, stepping forward. “Listen to yourself. Do you know what you sound like?”

“He sounds exactly like the sort of villainous cliché everyone expects us to be,” Dorian said, stepping out of the shadows. Adaira was sure the irony was not lost on him.

“Dorian,” Alexius’ frown deepened as the mage came to stand beside Adanna. “I gave you a chance to be a part of this. You turned me down. The Elder One has power you would not believe. He will raise the Imperium from its own ashes.”

“That’s who you serve?” Adanna stepped forward, ever rash. “The one who killed the Divine? Is he a mage?”

Alexius’ eyes narrowed, and he stepped forward as well. “Soon, he will become a god. He will make the world bow to mages once more,” he lifted a hand as he spoke, “We will rule from the Boric Ocean to the Frozen Seas.”

“You can’t involve my people in this!” Fiona protested with a shake of her head, even as Dorian moved toward Alexius.

“Alexius,” he said, “This is exactly what you and I talked about never wanting to happen.” Alexius turned away from him, shaking his head. “Why would you support this?”

“Stop it, Father,” Felix said, following Alexius. “Give up the Venatori. Let the Southern Mages fight the breach and let’s go home.”

Alexius rounded on his son, face pained. “No,” he said. “It’s the only way, Felix. He can save you.”

“Save me?” Felix demanded.

“There is a way-- the Elder One promised. If I undo the mistake at the temple.”

“I’m going to die,” Felix shook his head, “You need to accept that.”

Alexius ignored his son, motioning to the group standing before him. “Seize them, Venatori, the Elder One demands this woman’s life. Both of them, if need be.”

The only response was the sound of steel on flesh, and Alexius looked up, perplexed, as Inquisition soldiers stepped forward, having cut the throats of the Venatori agents. He stepped back, fear plain on his face. “Your men are dead, Alexius,” Adanna stepped forward again, moving with Dorian toward the Magister.

“You are a mistake,” he hissed, stepping back toward them. “You should never have existed.” He lifted his hand, a sickly green glow emanating from his palm as an amulet he had been clenching spun. It spat out cracks of energy as it lifted away from his hand.

“No!” Dorian threw out his arm, magic slicing through Alexius, causing him to cry out and stumble back. The amulet opened a rift which swirled, throwing most of the party back, but Adanna and Dorian themselves were too close. Adaira scrambled up, but it was too late. Her sister was gone and the rift sealed itself with a low pop. Alexius righted himself, his face spreading into an evil smile. There was a thud as Adaira cast barriers, the glint in Alexius’ eyes implying that he did not intend to be taken easily.

“What did you do the Herald?” Cassandra demanded, the sound of her sword being unsheathed sharp in the air.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Alexius sneered.

Adaira raised a hand static building to something more in her palm, but before she could strike at the Magister, a rift opened again, revealing Dorian and Adanna once more, as if they had never left. The lightning died on her fingers, as she stepped back, surprised, and overwhelmingly relieved. Alexius himself stumbled backward as Adanna approached.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Dorian said, nearly grinning.

Adanna’s closed fist was pulling back, but Alexius sank to his knees, and she stopped, fury written in her body posture, in the way her hand did not unclench, even as it lowered. “You won,” he said, defeat in his tone. “There is no point in extending this.” He let out a low breath, and looked up toward his son. “Felix.”

The young man crouched next to him. “It’s going to be all right, Father,” he said.

“You’ll die,” Alexius’s voice was tight with pain as he shook his head slowly.

“Everyone dies,” Felix offered, but Alexius could find no words. He bowed his head and stood as Inquisition soldiers came to stand behind him. They led him out, his form slumped.

“Well,” Dorian said, tone oddly chipper, “I’m glad that’s over with.” The sound of heavy, plated footsteps caused them all to turn to find two rows of soldiers stomping in. “Or not.”

* * *

 

Queen Anora’s appearance was unannounced, save the tromping of soldiers into the keep. Given the events, it was only to be expected that her offer of sanctuary be revoked, and Fiona was quick to accept the Inquisition’s offer. With the issue settled and Fiona sent to gather her people, Anora turned away, her soldiers following her out through the keep. It was a few long moments before Adanna turned, looking to Adaira. She pulled off her helmet as Adanna motioned for the others to leave as well.

Adanna threw herself at Adaira, desperate and heavy when the room was finally clear. “What happened?” Adaira asked, supporting much of her sister’s weight as she pressed her face into her neck.

“We were transported forward a year,” Adanna’s voice was quiet against her throat. “It was unspeakable.”

Adaira nodded, holding her twin close, armor and dead bodies making the situation a touch uncomfortable. They stood for a long time before Adanna pulled away, wiping her face. “We must stop the Elder One. This-- that-- can not be allowed to pass. I will not allow it to pass.”

“We will not allow it to pass,” Adaira agreed, cupping her sister’s face and wiping away what was left of the wetness. “Let’s return to Haven where you can rest, hm? I’ll keep the gloves, pretend to be you for a while if need be. I’m sure Cullen and Cassandra can take care of things for a while.”

Adanna shook her head. “No. I can’t hide. There is too much to be done, and I cannot leave it all to them,” she said, obviously working hard to keep a waver out of her tone. “To you,” she added, straightening her shoulders and wiping her own face. “We must find a way to close the Breach and stop this Elder One. I do not have time for moping. It was a nightmare, that is all.”

“That is all,” Adaira nodded, taking her sister’s hand. She looked toward the door to find Cassandra hovering on the threshold, watching them carefully. Adaira nodded toward the Seeker, and Adanna looked over, surprised. She cleared her throat, pressing her hair away from her face before she strode forward toward Cassandra.

Watching her sister for a moment, Adaira’s own thoughts turned to Krem. He was from Tevinter, and she wondered idly what his opinion would be as she followed her sister out. She felt herself smile at the thought of speaking with him and stopped in her tracks, reprimanding herself for such thoughts.


	4. The Demon of Therinfal Redoubt

Adaira crossed her arms as she watched the sparring, tucking her hands under her armpits against the cold. Cassandra was busy in the war room, negotiating-- or perhaps just plain arguing-- with Cullen and the others, so her training was postponed for a short time. The Chargers had taken up the sparring ring in the absence of Inquisition soldiers. Bull’s massive frame was notably absent, but he could easily have been in the war room as well, working out some new strategy for smashing enemies to bits.

She was hardly paying attention when his massive shadow passed over her. She started and turned to find him watching the Chargers as well. "He's a good man, you know."

"Who?" She looked back toward the ring. Her tone was dismissive, but she was certain she already knew.

"Krem. If that's what's holding you back. He may not be a noble, he’s worth a dozen of ‘em, if you ask me." Adaira's cheeks burned in her embarrassment and her fingers curled, even tucked as they were. She had either been too obvious or someone was gossiping. She didn't like either possibility, and chided herself for even thinking of it.

"We're in the middle of a war," she dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "Even if what you say is true, there’s little time for such things." She paused, and she knew he was far from convinced. “Relationships are not permitted within the Circles,” she added, knowing her argument was weak.

"You’re right. We're in the middle of a war. There isn't. Much. Time," He repeated, but his emphasis imparted a drastically different meaning. "And you aren’t in the Circle anymore."

Adaira crossed her arms over her chest again, face burning. "I-- and what do you know of what I want?"

"I am Ben-Hassrath. I've learned to read the slightest changes in expression. Your cheeks flush and your breathing changes every time you see him. Ah-- see, right now, you're very unhappy with me." He was chuckling under his breath. She felt like a threatened cat, puffed up but harmless against such a large foe. It was a shame shocking him was out of the question. She didn’t want to draw even more attention to herself.

"Adaira!" Cassandra was apparently free from the war table, and the mage turned toward her, fists clenched under her arms and hoping her cheeks weren't too red.

"Thank the Maker," Adaira grumbled, and she could have sworn he was laughing at her again. Cassandra’s formidable countenance had scared the Chargers from the training area, it would seem, but Adaira couldn’t help but feel like Bull was still staring at her.

* * *

 

Therinfal Redoubt was all but abandoned. It seemed odd that anyone would still be living in the keep, especially considering the masses of Templar bodies. Most appeared to have been executed after falling prey to some kind of illness, but it was obvious some had tried to escape. Odder still, they didn’t appear to have been given any funeral rites, just left where they had fallen. A brotherhood of the highest order, to be certain. On top of that, despite the lack of any rifts in the area, the unmistakable signs of demonic activity were found. Whatever kind of demon it had been, it appeared responsible for the fresher bodies, but it was gone. The Chargers had removed themselves before the remaining Templars had returned.

Standing near the campfire, Adaira scuffed the toe of her boot on the ground, arms crossed. If the Templars had allowed the demon to live amongst them, they had fallen further than she could have imagined, but if the creature had hidden amongst them, it was of impressive power.

“I’m sending a letter to your sister,” Krem approached, waving a piece of parchment, “Detailing what we’ve found. Leliana’s agents have also heard strange reports from the nearby village. Family members acting oddly, being in two places at once, that sort of stuff. It must be a shapeshifter. I wanted to know if you might know what kind of demon it is before I send this off.”

“I can’t say that I do,” she admitted, “but for all of the reading I did, I didn’t study demonology.”

Krem shrugged. “The Chargers have practice killing demons. We’ll find it.”

Adaira felt a twinge of irritation as she nodded. She felt herself the useless noble once again. She had spent so much time reading in the circle, but being in the field made her feel like she had learned nothing of merit, gained no useful skills outside of her magic, and she was still learning to master that, something that should have been innate.

“Are you feeling all right?”

Adaira was pulled from her thoughts and shook her head in a quick motion, clearing the growing scowl from her face. She hadn’t realized that he hadn’t moved away. “Yes, just-- surprised, I suppose. There were a lot of things I thought we might find at Therinfal Redoubt, but demon activity wasn’t among them.”

Krem let out a dry laugh and tilted his head. “I’d have to agree on that one. It doesn’t bode well for the larger Tempar force, either.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I should get this to your sister as soon as possible,” he raised the letter again and turned away, leaving her still feeling inadequate.

* * *

 

Adanna had returned word that the Chargers should hunt down the Therinfal demon. As Krem had said, they were experienced, and as he had said, they found stranger rumors upon their arrival at the nearest village. Scouts had tracked the occurrences and followed one of the villagers to a cave. An odd place for a villager to wander alone, at night, to be certain. The Chargers weren’t nearly as stealthy as Leliana’s agents, perhaps, but they encircled the cave in question without disturbing its inhabitant.

They advanced, slow and steady, but it was hard to conceal the crunching of leaves beneath a half-dozen feet. The sound of movement within the cave caused them to stop, and even knowing that the beast was a shapeshifter didn't keep Adaira from surprise as Cassandra stepped forward, sword raised and snarling.

The woman appeared surprised, however, and lowered her shield for a moment. "The Chargers?" She straightened slightly, her accent spot-on. "Why have you come here?"

"We will not be fooled by you, demon," Skinner growled, her blades raised.

The creature's lips curled back it to a snarl before letting out a roar and charging forward, shield raised. Before it could connect with anyone, Adaira threw out her hand, lightning cracking between her and the demon, forcing it to pause and let out a bellow, but it was only a momentary respite before it topped Skinner, dashing through the woods to escape them.

The Chargers gave chase, but the woods were thick, and the underbrush caught at Adaira’s robes. She cursed herself for abandoning the more practical armor she had worn at Redcliffe. She could only thank the Maker that Krem had charged ahead rather than witness her debacle with a bush. With one last frustrated grunt, she tore the fabric and freed herself.

She chased after the monster and the Chargers, the sounds of their flight through the underbrush far from quiet. There was a shout from Rocky, the sound of crashing glass, and then a few more shouts before the sound of more breaking branches. “That way!” The vague exclamation did her no good as she passed into the tight space between a few large trees. Rocky flung out a hand, the other clutching at his leg. Adaira nodded and rushed back into the underbrush.

“Chargers!” Iron Bull’s voice caught her ears and she altered her course to find the large qunari glaring down at his mercenaries. They all hesitated out of habit-- Cassandra was apparently less believable than Bull himself. Regardless, she flung out a hand, again splitting air with lightning. If it truly was Bull, he would understand.

The demon growled yet again, its shield and sword replaced by an overly-large axe which swung toward her. Another wave and the terrible blade slammed into a barrier rather than flesh. Her heart nearly stopped, but it held even as he brought the weapon down again. A flash and Skinner stood beside Bull, dagger shoved deep between his ribs. There was another sound of agony, followed by a disorienting shriek, causing Adaira’s vision to cloud and her mind to swim.

Shaking her head, she looked back to where the demon had been standing to find empty air. She cursed and looked to find Dalish firing in the direction she could only assume the monstrosity had fled. Even stumbling as she was, they both seemed to have fared better than the non-magic users, and Adaira once again ran in pursuit of the demon.

As Bull, its path was much wider, and significantly more obvious, but the delay caused by its magic was enough that it was nearly out of sight. Adaira ground her teeth as she ran, huffing between clenched jaws. She had to be prepared for whatever form it took when it reappeared. It had gotten the better of the Chargers, but she was prepared. It had used their weakness against them, and it would likely take her sister’s form when confronting her.

The forest floor suddenly dropped, and Adaira’s boots found exposed rock. The drop down was only a few feet, and with a clenched jaw, she lowered herself with a heavy thud. The crag was wide, but pinched too narrow at one end, and she let out a frustrated grunt before taking to foot again.

“Adaira?” Krem’s voice caught her off guard, even as she had convinced herself she was prepared. The man held his maul at the ready, staring at her, uncertainty in his eyes. The ravine was narrow, just barely enough for him to swing the weapon effectively.

He was not the form she had expected, but Krem had been incapacitated for longer by the demon’s magic. Hadn’t he? Her mind flickered in uncertainty and her eyes narrowed, fingers clenching the hilt of her blade. It was too permanent a solution. She took in a breath, pulling in energies and tilted her head. “You understand,” she said, hurling a bolt of lightning at him.

The scream she was rewarded with was far from human, a fact that sent relief washing through her even as the sound made her skin crawl. The form twisted as she kept up the assault, eventually revealing a pallid, veiny flesh that stretched into limbs far too long, and too many. It’s trunk twisted as if the creature had no true front, the head only a gaping maw, eyeless and terrible.

She recoiled, her magic faltering for enough of a moment that it was able to swing out one its monstrous limbs, smacking into her. She stumbled, but managed a slash, separating one twisted hand from its wrist. There was a hushed roar, followed shortly by the sound of a small explosion-- Dalish stood at the top of the cliff, her elven technique aiding them both considerably.

The demon screamed again, furious, but the hole torn open by the explosion was grievous enough that it twisted away from Adaira, allowing her to focus her magic again. Her lightning arced out, cracking along its body. Weakened though it was by their combined abilities, she was still loathe to draw close. The problem was solved with another feral cry as Skinner dropped from above, daggers sinking into the narrow, writing body, tearing the gaping wound further open, and injecting vicious poisons as they did so. 

“Down!”

The shout came from behind her, and Adaira ducked, the heavy sweep of a maul overhead sounded just before the crunching of bone, the demon’s skull caught between the jagged ravine wall and Krem’s weapon.

* * *

 

Sitting before the campfire, Adaira fussed with her sleeve, frowning at it. These were the last of the robes she had until they returned to Skyhold and she could exchange them for something more practical. The others were bloodied or bore larger tears. This was just the seam, torn when she had been too careless. It would continue to split and become increasingly annoying as the days passed. She could ignore the rest for now. She was sure the Chargers had all had garments fail, but she refused to ask if anyone was able to mend them. She was more than a silly noble. She had to be. Fortunately, the loose threads also provided needed distraction, keeping her mind from wandering elsewhere.

“Does that need mending?”

The question had her eyes turning upward, surprised to see Krem, motioning to her wrist. “Yes,” she admitted, toying with the fabric. Her surprise grew as he sat and motioned for her arm, opening a small pouch he had produced, and pulling out a needle and rough spool of thread. She took the bag from him as he threaded the eye, nimble fingers making the task easy. “I thought Stitches was the only one skilled with a needle.”

“My father was a tailor,” Krem said, tying a knot in the thread just as easily. He motioned and she extended her arm. His fingers were long, his palms far from overly-wide, calloused, but not rough. She watched as he worked, his stitches practiced and even, and her mind turned back to back to Bull’s words. She sucked in a breath and looked away.

“Did I prick you?” He asked, tone earnest as his hands paused.

She looked back to him, color threatening her cheeks. “No-- no. I just... Thought of something, is all.”

“Is it worth sharing?”

“I just should have learned to mend my own clothes instead of reading so many books,” she forced a tight smile.

“Hm, but then of what use would I be?” He tied another neat knot and leaned in toward her arm, breaking the thread with his teeth and a sharp jerk. He straightened, and quirked a smile at her. “Better,” he said. “It’s not perfect, but it should hold until we reach Skyhold.”

She examined his work with a feigned frown. “Impressive work,” She smiled at him, and he returned the expression. Her heart fluttered, and she looked away. Taking a breath, she steeled herself to look back at him, finding amusement on his features. “A tailor’s son, a Tevinter soldier, and then a Charger, hm?”

Krem nodded as he returned his tools to the pouch she held out for him. “My father had to sell himself into slavery after some noble got the wrong idea about how to help the city’s poor,” he said, voice quiet. “I would not marry the merchant’s son, but my mother still needed coin,” he gave a dismissive shrug, “So I ran off to the army.”

Her smile faded as his did. She was ashamed of herself for a moment, asking something so personal, but he had been rather forthcoming. She paused before continuing. “The merchant’s son?”

He looked back to her from his bag, taking it from her hand. “Yes,” he admitted. “I spent much of my early life in dresses. Chief says the Qunari call us ‘aqun-athlok,’ born as one gender but living as another.” There was no embarrassment or shame, but he did appear to be waiting for her reaction.

Adaira hesitated, surprised by the revelation, but not offput. “It must have been difficult, being forced to wear dresses. I think the armor suits you better.”

The corner of his lips turned upward again, and he nodded. “Me too.” He hesitated though, as if unwilling to leave. “That-- was a powerful bolt of lightning back there.”

“Ahh, yes,” Adaira nodded. “After the events in Redcliffe, I have been working to strengthen my abilities, what with the threat of a demon army... I’m glad to see it impresses.”

“So long as your aim stays sharp,” he quirked a grin at her and then glanced up to the stars. “Anything interesting in the sky tonight?”

Surprised, Adaira turned her eyes upward, allowing herself to move closer, to better point out constellations, and she smiled. “Well, there’s Tenebrium there,” she motioned. “And Kios is there...”


	5. In Your Heart Shall Burn

The Breach was closed. A scar still loomed in the sky above them, but it was impossible to dampen anyone’s spirits. The celebration back at Haven was long in coming, and there was no hesitation to break out any stocks of mead and heavier spirits. Laughter filled the village, and fires blanketed the pathways and gatherings in warm, cheerful light. People were dancing. It was a wonderful sight. Adaira milled about, watching the people with a small smile. She had been able to visit home while at the Tower thanks to her family's stairs, but she couldn’t help but feel out of place amongst celebrating strangers. She’d have to work on her people skills. She could hear Krem’s voice over the laughter, coming from one of the open fires, and she made her way over, taking up a spot on the edges. “You should have seen the look on the bastard’s face when he woke up to us in his bedroom! We tracked in so much mud,” he let out a laugh, as did those who surrounded them. She enjoyed his stories, though they were perhap a bit overblown on some occasions. She smiled as he started a new one. “Oh, and then--!”

His words were cut off by the sound of a ringing bell. Warning. Adaira turned, seeking out Adanna’s profile near the Chantry. Soldiers flew through the city toward the outer gates, and Adaira could make out Cullen’s voice. “Soldiers approaching! To arms!”

Adaira dropped her mug and dashed into the Chantry, shortly behind Adanna. They both made for their shared chamber, snatching up armor. They had become well-practiced in assisting one another, and they both slipped on their helmets just as they were leaving the Chantry to find out who was approaching. People, civilians, were still startled, running around bewildered and panicked. “We must get to the gates!” Cassandra called, her weapon already drawn as she motioned for Adanna to follow her.

“Cullen?” Cassandra inquired as they approached. He turned to look at them, his expression stony.

“One watchguard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain,” he motioned to their torches. It was a wonder no one had noticed them sooner.

“Under what banner?” Cassandra asked.

“None,” he said, shaking his head.

“None?” The word was echoed.

Adaira jumped as the doors shook, a flash of light peeking under the edge. “I can’t come in unless you open!” The voice was that of a man, or perhaps a boy, and he sounded frightened. Adanna paused for a moment before rushing down to push the doors open. A knight staggered towards her before dropping, joining the rest of his companions on the ground, which was already pooling with blood. Cullen rushed after her as she trotted down the stairs toward a young man with an overlarge hat.

“I am Cole,” he introduced himself, staring around at the bodies, “I came to warn you-- to help.” He stepped close to Adanna, and Adaira took a rushed step forward, but stopped as he continued. “People are coming to hurt you... You probably already know.” Adaira worked her way down the steps, slow, so as to not startle the boy.

“What is this? What’s going on?” Adanna demanded.

“The Templars come to kill you,” he said, hat guarding his face.

“Templars?” Cullen shouted, moving toward the boy, who jumped back in surprise. “Is this the Order’s response to our talks with the mages? Attacking blindly?”

“The Red Templars went to the Elder One-- you know him, he knows you. You took his mages.” He stepped away and swung an arm out. “There,” he pointed, “the Elder one.” A vague profile could be made out in the distance, surveying the approaching troops-- too tall to be human. “He’s very angry that you took his mages.”

Adaira frowned at the strange boy. Didn’t the Templars know how many innocents were in the city? Not everyone in Haven was a soldier, many were just refugees, victims of fate. They had not been expecting a war-- not yet, not like this. Perhaps that was her own naivety.

“Cullen, give me a plan, anything,” Adanna looked to the man.

“Haven is no fortress,” he admitted, “If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle.” His eyes turned to the trebuchets that had previously stood, untouched and ignored. “Get out there, and hit that force. Use everything you can,” he finished, drawing his own blade. “Mages!” he turned back to the men behind him, now outfitted in the armor that had been so carelessly cast aside before. “You have sanction to engage them-- that is Samson, he will not make it easy!” He paced before the gathered forces, enraged or anxious, it was uncertain. Adaira wondered just how ready his forces were. Looking to them, she could see uncertainty in many faces. “Inquisition! With the Herald! For your lives! For all of us!” He turned again, lifting his blade, and the fear dropped as they focused on him, on his courage and his words. There were even cheers, but the sound made Adaira’s stomach churn.

“Defend the trebuchet!” The shout rang out. The monsters that climbed over the barricade nearly made Adaira’s heart stop. She thought they were abominations at first, and perhaps they still were-- men, twisted of form with death-pale skin and red shards splitting out from their bodies. “Almost ready! Keep them off us!”

-

Chancellor Roderick hobbled to the front doors of the Chantry, clutching at his side. Cole, the boy from before, shuffled close behind. “Move, keep going. The Chantry is your shelter!” Roderick called. Adanna and a group of civilians she had rescued dashed into the shelter. There did not seem to be any more. The doors were closed with a heavy, dooming sound.

The Chancellor nearly collapsed, only to be caught by his strange companion. “He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He is going to die,” Cole said as he supported the man, leading him toward a chair.

“What a charming boy,” Roderick said as he sat, letting out a heavy, pained, breath.

“Herald,” Cullen called, trotting over. “Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.”

“I’ve seen an archdemon. I was in the fade, but it looked like that,” Cole offered from his spot, crouched near Roderick.

Adaira took a second to scrutinze him. If his words were true, then the Elder One had to be of unimaginable power. “I don’t care what it looks like,” Cullen interrupted her thoughts. “It cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven!”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.”

Adanna visibly stiffened, her hands clenching at her sides. “Tell me how to stop him,” she said, voice tight and low.

“It won’t be easy. He has a dragon.”

Adaira’s frown deepened. “We know,” she growled, and Cole looked at her, taken aback. The monster could still be heard from outside.

“Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable,” Cullen sounded desperate. “The only thing that slowed them was that avalanche. We could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide.”

“We’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d hit Haven,” Adanna said, her voice low, a note of defeat hidden within.

“We’re dying. But we can decide how. Many don’t get that choice,” Cullen said, his expression hard. Adanna stepped forward, toward Cullen. There was no nobility in dying, whether they chose how or not, and she intended to tell him so.

“Yes, that,” Cole whispered, cutting her off, looking over his shoulder and then back to the Chancellor. “Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.”

“There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the Summer Pilgrimage, as I have.” His voice was strained, and laced with pain. He leaned forward as Adanna stepped closer. “The people can escape,” he continued. “She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me, so I could... T-tell you.” He heaved himself to his feet, clutching at his wound. “It was whim that I walked the path, I did not mean to start-- it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers... I don’t know, Herald.” He slowed, sucking in a desperate breath. “If this simple memory could save us, this could be more than accident, you could be more.”

“Cullen,” Adanna let desperation slip into her voice, “Could you get them out-- will it work?”

“Possibly,” Cullen nodded, his mind obviously working overtime. “If he shows us the path. But what of your escape?”

Adanna looked away, first to the floor, and then to Adaira. She knew exactly what her sister was thinking, and she stepped forward, taking her sister by the arm, grip perhap a bit too tight. “Absolutely not; you can’t possibly be thinking of sacrificing yourself!”

“We may have no other choice, Adaira. He’s here for me, and the people will have no chance if I flee."

The expression on Cullen’s face shifted from hard to surprised, and then, understanding. It made Adaira’s stomach churn to watch him, and she hated him for such easy acceptance of her sister’s death. Of his _Herald’s_ death. “Perhaps you will surprise it, find a way...” His words were hollow in her ears. He moved then, addressing his soldiers. “Inquisition! Follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry, move!”

The soldiers scurried to obey him, all too eager to flee the dragon and the Red Templars. They gathered the refugees, lifting those who couldn’t walk on their own. Cole took Chancellor Roderick himself.

“Herald,” the old man said, allowing himself to be helped. “If you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.”

"Thank you," Adanna bowed her head.

“Adanna,” Adaira protested again, but her sister’s face was set. She’d seen that expression before, and the words died in her throat. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.”

“Adaira, no--” her words were cut short as Cullen returned.

“They will load the trebuchets,” he motioned to a couple of soldiers running back out the Chantry’s doors. “Keep the Elder One’s attention until we’re above the tree line. If we are to have a chance-- if you are to have a chance-- let that thing hear you.” Adanna nodded at his words, pressing her lips into a thin line. Adaira frowned and stepped forward.

"He will have no choice but to hear _me_ ," she interrupted, lifting her hands as lightning danced between her slender fingers. Cullen paused, noting the fury in her eyes she was sure, before turning away to see to the evacuation. Adaira moved to the side, snatching up a discarded sword. She caught sight of Iron Bull, addressing Cremisius. The Tevinter man nodded before glancing in their direction. He looked prepared to come over for a second, but turned away as Iron Bull approached the sisters.

"All right, boss," he said, "I'm ready when you are."

Adanna paused. Turning him away would get her nothing. He was her bodyguard, after all. She nodded after a moment. Cassandra joined them as well, helmet under her arm. This was apparently not an approved development either, but they had no time to argue.

"We must keep him distracted. As soon as there is an opportunity, though, you will return to the Chantry, and you will go with the rest through the passage." Adanna's eyes were hard as she looked at them each in turn, settling on Adaira last, and longest.

They stepped out into chaos. Nothing had changed in the short time they were inside, but perhaps more things were on fire. The few remaining Templars had broken through the front gates, however, and were now moving into Haven proper, spreading out and looking for Adanna, killing anyone who got in the way. "We must fight our way to the trebuchets," Cassandra motioned across the village to where they stood. Adaira's stomach churned, thinking about the likely now dead men that had been sent to out moments before. She could only pray to the Maker that they had made it, that they had been able to load the trebuchet. If they hadn't, there was no hope for the refugees.

“I hope this plan of yours works,” Iron Bull called as they headed toward the trebuchet.

The Templars weren’t thick, but they were enough to slow them down. But with barriers and Iron Bull, not much stood a chance. No sooner had the trebuchet been aimed when the dragon screamed, high in the sky, before turning and tucking its wings to swoop down toward them. Cassandra stepped away from the wheel. “Move!”

They dashed away, but they weren’t quick enough-- the dragon spewed flame laced with lightning, catching up with them. The ground beneath Adaira’s feet exploded, throwing her forward into Adanna. She scrambled up, hauling her twin with her, and pushed her toward Cassandra. “Go, go!” Adanna looked at her, confused and unwilling, but Cassandra pulled at her arm as Adaira turned away to face the dragon. It was gone.

A ghastly figure moved toward her through the flames. It was too tall to be human, too twisted, fingers far too long and wickedly curved. His chest jutted out as if a breastplate had been fused to his very body, and blood red crystals split out from a face twisted into a permanent sneer. He stopped, and the land beneath Adanna shuddered as the dragon landed behind her. Her grip tightened on her hilt, but she knew it would be of little use. The beast bounded forward, shaking the ground with every leap. It let out a terrible roar, needle-like teeth causing her heart to skip a beat, even as she turned to face it.

“Enough!” Adanna whirled back, panic taking root in her gut. The voice had sounded human enough, but the Elder One was the only one present. “Pretender,” he said, his voice low and malformed by the odd stretch of his features, “You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

“What are you? Why are you doing this?” She could feel the breath of the dragon behind her, hot and acrid. She was going to die.

“Mortals beg for truth they cannot have. It is beyond what you are. What I was.” He stood still, strangely still, despite the flames that covered the area. She couldn’t reason with why he was still talking, why he hadn’t killed her, but she wouldn’t question it. Perhap it was Andraste’s work, feeding words into his mouth. “Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus. You will kneel.” He held out a hand, one long finger pointing at Adaira.

“No,” she growled in return, shifting her grip on her hilt.

“You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not.” He lowered his hand and lifted the other, which clenched a strange, grooved orb. “I am here for the Anchor,” he looked to the sphere as he spoke. “The process of removing it begins now.” The orb flared to life, flame and lightning wrapping it in a haze before a scream rent the air. Adanna leapt from the cliff beside him, a blade raised to strike him down, but Corypheus batted her aside, his hand starting to glow with the orb as the object's power grew.

Adanna let out another scream, this one pained as the mark on her hand crackled and pulsed. She clenched her wrist as she struggled to her knees. There was a snarl as Corypheus looked over his shoulder at Adaira, but he turned his attention to Adanna. There was nothing human in his eyes. He would kill them both. Hand raised, she fed her magic into a barrier around Adanna, but it seemed to have no effect on whatever he was doing.

_“I can give you power. Power enough to stop this.”_ The whisper caused Adaira to flinch.

“It is your fault, ‘Herald.’ You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” Adaira stepped forward, but another blast of hot air reminded her of the dragon’s presence. She still wasn’t sure why it hadn’t eaten her yet. “I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as ‘touched,’ what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very Heavens.” A pulse from his hand sent Adanna back to the ground, all but writhing. Again, Adaira moved forward, but the dragon hissed and moved closer to the both of them. “And you used my anchor to undo my work! The gall.”

Adaira continued to feed the barrier, fingers outstretched, desperate. “What is it meant to do?” Adanna managed from the ground, straightening herself as best she could. Her eyes flicked to Adaira’s.

_“I can give you the power you want. The power to destroy him and save your sister. Here, now. You can save her and end this.”_ Adaira ground her teeth, pushing the voice away.

“It is meant to bring certainty where there is none. For you, the certainty that I would always come for it.” He stepped forward, strides unnaturally long, and lifted Adanna by the forearm with supernatural ease. The dragon’s eyes were the only thing keeping Adaira in place. “I once breached the fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of the empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years, I was confused. No more.”

Adanna struggled in Corypheus’ grasp, far from content with being held so close to his face. “I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own. To champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, _and it was empty._ ” He spun, throwing Adanna into the trebuchet. Adaira ran, ignoring the irritated hiss of the beast behind her. She dove for her sister, supporting her as she sat up. Lightning threatened across her fingers as Corypheus approached, but he had no fear. It did not surprise her.

“The Anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.” The dragon came close behind him, hissing, jaws agape. “So be it. I _will_ begin again. Find another way to give this world the nation-- and god-- it requires.”

“Adaira,” Adanna managed, looking up toward the mountains. A flare. It was a signal, it had to be. They had reached the treeline.

“And you-- I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

Adaira moved away from Adanna and stepped forward, providing a meager shield for her sister. “Your ignorance blinds you. Good to know,” she said, flaring the lightning between her fingers, and throwing it from her hands to him. He let out a shout, a sound of surprise more than pain, and his dragon roared, indignant. Behind her, Adanna threw herself toward the release for the trebuchet.

“If I die, it is not today!” She shoved the release, and the chain began slipping; the counterweight swung and its payload was thrown into the side of the mountain. Corypheus turned, and Adaira took the chance, grabbing Adanna and hauling her toward the fortifying wall. The dragon let out a enraged screech, and Adaira could only assume it lifted Corypheus before it took to flight, leaving them alone with their impending doom. The snow crashed down behind them, and they leapt as they reached the end of their path, and they fell.

-

Adaira awoke with a pained breath. She had broken ribs, she could feel it. Adanna was curled at her side, and she could only pray to the Maker that more wasn’t broken on her. It was a miracle enough that she had not broken a leg. There was a pop from the Anchor, and Adanna jerked away with a moan. “Maker,” she whimpered, clutching her hand to herself.

“Adanna,” Adaira put a hand on her shoulder, and her sister leaned into the touch, looking over at her.

“We’re alive,” Adanna whispered, almost as if not believing it to be possible. “We’re alive.”

“Yes, but come. We must get as far away from Haven as possible. We have to see where this goes, and pray that someone from the Inquisition finds us.” Adanna nodded as Adaira rose, brushing the shattered glass of potion vials from her robes. She helped Adanna to her feet, careful of her wounded wrist.

Adaira wished she had studied more healing magic. The path ahead was long and cold, but blessedly empty. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she was glad that she did not find it. She could hear the howling of wind from further along the tunnel, and she could only hope that it would lead them to the path that the rest of the Inquisition had taken. “We’re almost there,” she murmured, and Adanna nodded.

When they reached the end of the tunnel, they found only snow and a howling blizzard. Adaira dropped into the snow first, past her ankles, before helping Adaira down off the ledge. She summoned a plume of fire in her palm, and they huddled around it, but the wind was against them, and it battered them ferociously, sapping any warmth provided by their armor. or the weak flame.

Their progress slowed as they moved with only the slope of the mountain to guide them. She hoped that they may have slowed once they reached the tree line, or sent scouts back to search for them once the avalanche fell silent. As it was, the flurry was too thick to see through, and she had to focus on the fire to keep it alive. To keep them alive.

"The trees, Adaira, we have to get to the trees, at least," Adanna’s words were labored against the wind, but Adaira nodded. "We can't stop. Not in this cold. They'll find us. Or we'll find them." Adaira was a Mage, not a miracle worker. Building them a shelter out of snow wasn't something she could do.

They continued to push through the snow, the distant howl of a wolf causing Adaira to hesitate. This was not the time for those beasts. Nothing emerged from the whiteness of the world, however, despite calling out several more times. Perhaps, though, if there were a wolf den, she could clear them out, and they could rest there.

Following the howls now, further up the mountain, the snow was only getting deeper. When it reached her hips, Adaira released Adanna. They would have to take turns breaking through it to conserve energy. A looming shape turned into a blessed stone wall, blocking much of the wind, and the snow wasn’t as deep, but it was too little too late; the cold had settled into their bones.

Adaira stumbled first, the fire’s constant draw on her mana tiring her more quickly. Adanna moved to take her sisters place at the front, but the snow was very nearly too much for her, too. "We must continue," she urged, even as her body trembled. She could see fires in the distance. How distant they were was a mystery.

"There! It's them!" Cullen's voice was faint, far too distant to be real.

"Thank the Maker!" Cassandra’s voice was much the same, foggy and more spectre than anything solid. Adaira wasn't convinced the hands she felt were real.

-

For such a rushed flight from Haven, the Inquisition’s temporary camp was surprisingly well situated. The small valley they had managed to find held off the worst of the wind, and the smattering of tents helped break it off even more. Adaira huddled on a bed roll, fire glowing between her palms, close to her chest. Adanna lay on the roll next to her, curled beneath all the spare blankets someone had managed to find. Mother Giselle sad on her other side, quiet.

“What would you have me tell them?” Adaira could hear Cullen’s voice carrying through the camp. “This isn’t what we asked them to do.”

“We cannot simply ignore this! We must find away!” Cassandra’s voice was growing louder, closer. Adanna’s eyes opened, beleaguered, and she shivered.

“And who put you in charge?” Cullen’s tone was accusing. Adanna sat up, watching Adaira as she wrapped the blankets around her shoulders. “We need a consensus or we have nothing!” They looked over to where the group was standing, arguing.

“If I don’t go over there, they’ll never stop shouting at each other, and we’ll never get any sleep,” Adaira stared at them, expression beyond irritated.

“I suppose that wouldn’t do us any good. We can’t stay here, after all, and if they’re busy shouting at each other, they won’t be able to think of any good ideas.”

“Shh,” Mother Giselle shook her head slightly, “You need rest.”

“They’ve been at it for hours. There won’t be any rest if they don’t stop.”

“They have that luxury thanks to you.”

“Then they should thank her with the luxury of sleep,” Adaira frowned. “Do we know where Corypheus is now?”

“We are not sure where we are. Which might be why, despite the numbers he still commands, there is no sign of him. That, or you are believed dead. Without Haven, we are thought helpless. Or he girds for another attack. I cannot claim to know the mind of that creature-- only his effect on us.”

“If they’re arguing about what we do next, I need to be there.” Adanna continued to watch their forms around the fire.

“Another heated voice won’t help,” Giselle reasoned. “Even yours. Perhaps especially yours. Our leaders struggled because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand, and fall. And now we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained.”

Adanna was shifting, throwing off the blankets and working her way to her feet. Giselle was watching her, but not moving to stop her. “That is hard to accept, no? What we have been called to endure, what we, perhaps, must come to believe?”

“I didn’t die,” Adanna shook her head. “I escaped. We escaped,” she glanced over to Adaira.

“Of course. But the people know what they saw. Or perhaps what they needed to see. The Maker works both in the moment, and in how it is remembered. Can we truly know the Heavens are not with us?”

Adaira let out a huff, and both of the other women looked to her. “You saw Corypheus. Did you not hear his claims?”

“If even a shred of his words are true, then it is all the more reason Andraste would choose someone to stand against him.”

Adanna shook her head, but not in disagreement. “Andraste’s chosen or not, Corypheus is a real, physical threat. We cannot hope to match that with faith alone.” She moved away, toward where Cassandra and the others were gathered, but their arguments had ceased for now. She moved beside the Seeker, who was standing over charts and maps. Cassandra looked up, perhaps a bit surprised, but moved slightly to allow Adanna more room.

Mother Giselle rose as well, taking in a deep breath and folding her hands in front of her. Striding forward, she began to sing. All eyes turned to her as her voice carried across the camp. Leliana picked up the words, crouched as she was beside Josephine. Adanna joined, as well, and the sound of other voices began to carry through the camp, all singing. Soldiers and civilians came closer to the small group of advisors, and Adanna’s voice died as a man knelt before her. Others quickly followed suit. Adaira stood, her flame dying away.

Giselle was standing beside Adanna as the song died down. “An army needs more than an enemy,” she said. “It needs a cause.” She moved away then, with a nod of her head.

Solas, having stood at the fringes approached, tilting his head away from the center of the camp. “A word?”

Adanna looked to Adaira and then back to Solas, nodding. They turned away, leaving Adaira to her own thoughts. She was unsettled now, despite the moving moment created by Mother Giselle. It was beautiful, in its own right, solidifying them as a group, giving them some hope in this white wasteland. Maybe what Corypheus had said was a lie. But if it was not, and their god was truly gone-- if she had been kept in a tower for no reason other than the fear of those around her--.

Adaira’s thoughts were interrupted by crunching boots, and she turned to find Cremisius. “Glad to see you two made it. Couldn’t imagine what would happen without someone to seal the rifts.”

“I suppose everyone would be fighting demons for the rest of time,” Adaira shrugged, watching him settle with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Ah, couldn’t have that. Was just updating Bull on our injured,” he looked her over as her eyebrows raised. “And how did you fare?”

“I’m alive,” she answered flatly.

He looked almost taken aback by her tone. “That you are,” he said, nodding before moving past her.

Adanna was returning, her conversation with Solas apparently short. “Solas says he knows of a fort we might commandeer. The journey will not be easy with so many, but it is the only option that we have.”

Adaira nodded. “Well then, you should get some sleep. You will have no choice but to march at the front now.”


	6. Demands of the Qun

Adaira stared out over the vast expanse of mountains that jutted out of the Earth. Skyhold was a good place, much more defensible than Haven. It was a shame that it was in such disrepair. Her hands rested on the battlements as the frigid mountain air chilled her. There was an ache in her ribs, worsened by the cold. She shivered and turned away, stopping when she found Cassandra eyeing her and wringing her hands. "You've got the wrong sister," she said, "Smaller ears."

"No, I--" the Seeker paused and looked away. "I came to ask you of your sister."

Adaira's brows raised in surprise. "What about her?" It seemed odd that Cassandra had chosen to seek her out for such a question when Adanna herself would have been undoubtedly easier to find.

"Is she doing all right?" From the look on Cassandra's face, that was not all she wanted to know, and Adaira's eyes narrowed.

"She is shaken by the events at Haven, as we all are, but with your announcement, her spirits return. But why not ask her, herself?"

A flush of color came to Cassandras cheeks. "I do not want her to think I am fretting, or only asking because we have need of her."

"Why are you asking, then?"

"I--" The color on Cassandra's cheeks deepened, but her chin tilted upward as she turned away, hurrying back along the ramparts. Adaira leaned her hip against the cold stone, lips quirked.

"Ah! There you are," Cremisius called.

Apparently everyone was looking for her. "Here I am," she said, turning to him, still resting against the stone.

“I-- We, The Chargers, we’re glad you survived.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, “I take it the Chargers made it out without too many injuries?”

He nodded, humming in agreement before allowing quiet to stretch between them. "Rather cold up here," he commented offhandedly as he glanced over the expanse she had been watching. She shrugged, and he hesitated again before starting, "Cullen has an assignment for the Chargers. He wasn't sure if you would be up for it, so soon after..." His voice quieted as he looked back at her. “If your injuries had healed-- were you injured?”

Adaira hesitated before answering, worried that he might think her damaged beyond use, or that Cullen thought she might be at greater risk for possession. "The healers tell me I broke a number of ribs, but I’m fine. What’s the assignment?"

Cremisius cleared his throat and shifted his weight. "He wants us in Crestwood; there’s a bandit group keeping the townspeople away from the dam controls, and the area is a mess with-- well-- bandits, undead, and demons. Seems a rift is under the lake. We’re to clear them out while your sister takes care of some mess with darkspawn on the Storm Coast. She’ll join us when she can."

“I’m certainly not in any hurry to go back to the Storm Coast and get rained on again. I’ll be ready to leave,” she nodded, and he returned the gesture, about to turn away. “Cremisius?” His brows raised as she paused.

“Do you--. The bodies. Is it something you get used to?” There was nothing clean about the way Cremisius’ weapon killed. It was blunt and violent, breaking bones and tearing flesh with sheer, brute force. Adaira hadn’t been close to the first men she had killed, hadn’t been close to many of them, but now that she could smell the charred flesh and hear the sounds that men made when they died, she doubted her resolve.

He hesitated again before stepping closer to lean on the ramparts next to her, staring out at the mountains. He was quiet for a moment, but the beating of her heart was strangely loud, and she worried he might somehow hear it. Her cheeks burned and she didn't look at him, instead continuing to stare down toward the courtyard. His words were slow when he finally spoke. “I suppose not, but you find ways to cope. Chief says when he fights, he pretends they aren’t people. He’s always liked fighting, but he doesn’t like killing, not really. Even he has to distance himself from it.”

They were quiet again for a few minutes. Eventually, Cremisius pushed himself away from the wall, watching her for a moment before taking in a breath. “When we get back, come have a drink with us,” he offered, giving her a half smile. “Left all the alcohol in Haven, otherwise I’d invite you now.”

Adaira looked up from inspecting the rampart’s stonework. Looking at the way his lips curved set a flutter in her chest, and she couldn’t help but produce a smile, weak though it was. “Sure,” she nodded.

"Krem is quicker, by the way," he added as he left her to her own thoughts.

* * *

If the Maker was real, he had an awful sense of humor. The rain had been incessant since entering Crestwood, and with the defeat of the bandits and the release of the floodgates, Adaira was not looking forward to another soggy trip back to Skyhold. But upon stepping out onto the dam once more, she found the sun beaming down, the stormclouds racing away across the sky. At least the rain would have washed the blood away. Hands on her hips, she couldn’t help but glare at the sky.

“Oh, look at that. Rain must’ve stopped just for you,” Krem teased, stepping out from the tavern behind her.

“The Maker must think he is very funny,” Adaira said. Her gambeson hadn’t dried completely the night before either, and now they would just be humid and sticky for the rest of the day until she could find appropriate time change. She looked over her shoulder as Krem moved to stand at the wall to watch the lake drain. She did have to admit, it was an impressive sight.

He turned, leaning against the wall and catching her by surprise. In the sudden light, she couldn’t help but notice the distinct honey-brown shade of his irises, and stared for a moment, mouth dry. “I set up a patrol to prevent any more undead from attacking the town. The boys should be leaving now.” His words forced her to realize she was still staring, and she attempted to find somewhere else to look, but his lips were no better, and her eyes turned toward the stonework as she blinked rapidly. “How are your ribs?”

“My ribs?” She started, looking up and hoping the color of her cheeks had remained unchanged. He quirked a grin at her and she could have sworn he was doing it on purpose. “Fine,” she said, perhaps a bit too abruptly. “They’re doing fine.”

“I know I invited you for drinks with the Chargers back in Skyhold, but we seem to have quite a bit stored up here. And the keep does belong to the Inquisition now. Your sister’s on her way, I assume. What do you think about us starting the celebrations a bit early?”

“I suppose she should repay you for those casks she made you waste out on the Storm Coast,” Adaira tilted her head, thinking. “Break open what you want.”

"You won't be joining?"

"I--” Adaira paused. To say that she was enjoying the sunshine wouldn’t be a lie, but relaxing in the tavern while awaiting her sister’s arrival would allow her a chance to remove her heavier robes. Krem seemed to be waiting, watching her, and she couldn’t help but feel a touch flustered. “S-- sure.” He grinned, and she couldn’t help but look away again, even as he turned to re-enter the tavern.

* * *

Sitting amongst the Chargers, Adaira couldn’t help but curse Krem. She had been social enough within the tower, but being amongst the Chargers, she may as well have been transfigured into a nug. It wasn’t that she had no interest in the Chargers as individuals, or that she wasn’t interested in speaking with them, she simply had no idea what topics they might enjoy. Her hands gripped her mug a bit too tightly as she listened to the conversations around her at the table, nothing of interest to add. They spoke of adventures and what they planned on doing when they got back to Skyhold, of events back home.

Their reverie was interrupted when the tavern doors burst open and a triumphant bellow sounded. “Ah ha! I knew I’d find you lot drinking!” Iron Bull threw his arms out as he strode inside, Adanna and the others behind him.

Adanna quirked a brow at her sister, and Adaira fidgeted, but shrugged. She tried her best not to look like a sore thumb before her sister finally dropped into a seat beside her. “I figured they needed to be repaid, after you made them waste all that good alcohol at the Storm Coast.”

Adanna's lips pursed for a moment before she shrugged. "I just can't believe you started without me." Bull was already behind the bar, inspecting mugs for cleanliness, and shoving them into the hands of the awaiting crew.

Minutes later, the table shifted a bit as Bull dropped his weight into an empty chair and leaned his elbows on the rough wood. It wasn't long before they were all drinking and talking a touch too loud as well, and Adaira found herself with more conversations to listen to. Bull, apparently having noticed that she was watching more than speaking, motioned to her from across the table around which they were all seated.

"So! Adaira," He started, "How did you find out you're a mage? Did you set someone on fire? Burn down a wing of the estate?"

Adaira’s brows lifted. “Our eldest brother stole one of my dolls and ripped off her head. I gave him the shock of his life. He still has the scar. He says it makes him look dashing. You know men and scars,” she shrugged, taking a drink and trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on her. "I suppose it's better than having set him on fire."

"Now that you've spent some time with my Chargers, tell me what you think," Bull continued. From the grin on his features, he already knew what she was thinking.

"They're impressive," she said. "They're efficient, dependable, good at killing whatever needs killing. Worth the money; everything you said." Her eyes flicked to Krem and then back to Bull, and she reprimanded herself with a sharp bite to the inside of her lip.

"Of course they are," Iron Bull leaned back in his seat, pride written on his features. "That's why they're mine.”

Adanna leaned insistently closer to her twin, and Adaira did the same, bridging most of the gap across the table. “Bull says the Qunari want an alliance.” Her eyes were all but glittering at the thought. “We leave to meet their agent in two days.”

* * *

Traveling back to the Storm Coast had not been high on Adaira's list of things to do since her initial visit. Bull's contacts and the proposed alliance was too important for her to decline. With the Inquisition growing in fame and power, the Ben-Hassrath had sent Bull a message, offering an unprecedented alliance, with only one small caveat. Protecting a dreadnaught from Venatori mages hardly seemed a complicated ordeal, and Adanna had accepted without hesitation.

“Does it always rain here?” Adaira couldn’t help but stare at the clouds as they walked, sullen and already close to being soaked.

“It is the Storm Coast,” Adanna glanced back to her sister. “Besides, storms are good for you, aren’t they? Refreshing for the soul?”

Adaira twisted her face at her sister, but her words were interrupted by the sound of Bull greeting his contact. Gatt, an elf, was a bit of a surprise. Knowing of non-Qunari followers of the Qun was one thing, meeting them was another. Adanna was introduced and Adaira continued to glare at the cloudy sky. “My agents suggested two possible locations the Venatori may be camped to guard the shore. There,” she watched as he motioned, “And there. We’ll need to split up and hit both at once.”

“I’ll come with you, Boss; Krem can lead the Chargers. Let me fill him in.” Bull moved away from Gatt and Adanna, crossing the short distance to where Krem and the rest of the Chargers stood ready.

Adaira moved to speak with her sister in his absence. “I will go with the Chargers,” she said. “You have Vivienne. The Chargers will need help with barriers.”

Adanna frowned. “I-- Suppose. I can’t say that I like it, but it would be best.” She turned, and Adaira followed to where Bull was speaking with the Chargers.

“Just... Pay attention. The Vints want this red lyrium shipment bad,” he said, and Adaira could have sworn she heard a note of concern in his voice. She wasn’t sure she had ever seen Bull anxious before.

“Yes, I know. Thanks, Mother,” Krem said.

“Qunari don’t have mothers, remember?”

“We’ll be fine, Chief,” Krem gave a nod, attempting to calm his captain.

Bull glanced to Adanna, and she nodded. “All right, Chargers. Horns up!”

"Horns up!" The gathered chargers echoed.

Bull and Adanna stepped away, and Adaira remained behind. “You’re with us, then? Good, wouldn’t want to make things too easy for the Chief. Ruins his fun,” Krem crossed his arms, watching the pair. “And you’re well on your way to becoming one of the regulars.”

“I’m not getting anything tattooed on my ass, if that’s part of the induction.” Adaira all but grinned, pushing the anxiety in her stomach away. The fact that Bull was nervous didn’t sit well with her, despite Krem’s easy confidence.

Bull turned as he strode away, giving one last shout. “Chargers! Hit ‘em hard, and hit ‘em fast! When this is over, drinks are on me!”

“You’ve got it, Chief,” Krem answered, crossing his arm over his chest and nodding. “Chargers, double-time! Let’s move!”

The small squad nodded, trotting after Krem as they began the trek toward their designated hill. Adaira clenched at the hilt of her spirit sword. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t fought Venatori before, but perhaps it was because there was simply so much riding on the dreadnought being able to sink the smuggler ship that her nerves were on edge. They approached the camp on the low hill, quiet.

The camp was small, easy prey, and the skirmish was over without a fuss. Krem crouched by the campfire, setting off the signal flare. It wasn’t long before the other went up, and the dreadnought lumbered into view through the storm.

Flaming projectiles hurled from the large ship toward the significantly smaller Tevinter vessel, and Adaira let out a low breath of relief, glancing to Krem, who was watching the action with crossed arms.

“Krem!” Rocky pointed down the steep cliff, and he strode over, Adaira following. She had been right to worry. Reinforcements, and a lot of them, were approaching the hill. Too many. Adaira’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” Krem spat, and backed away. “Be ready boys, we must hold this hill. There is no other choice. Adaira,” he paused, looking to her. “You should fall back; return to your sister. You aren’t a Charger, you didn’t sign on to death.”

Adaira hesitated, a frown growing on her features. “No,” her grip tightened on her hilt. “I may not be a Charger, but I am a part of the Inquisition. We must hold this hill for as long as possible, and you will be stronger with my barriers. Dalish can't carry all of you. Adanna knew the risks, and this is more important than my life.” It was possible Adanna or Bull would call the retreat, but the Inquisition needed the Qunari alliance.

Krem wet his lips, looking like he wanted to protest, but nodded after a moment. Adaira swung her arm around, creating a ward for the Chargers and took her hilt in both hands, the spirit blade humming to solid form moments later. There was a shout, and the Tevinter men were upon them, appearing from below the crest of the hill.

Krem let out a bellow, maul swinging over his head and slamming into the first soldier. There was a burst of flame-- the mages were firing blind up onto the hillside, perhaps hoping to catch the trees on fire and force the Chargers to the beach. Adaira moved forward as the Vints pressed up the hill. The non-mages carried large shields, deflecting any projectiles hurled their way. Adaira threw out a hand, pulling bolts of lightning downward, rather than outward and the men stumbled. Grim moved forward again, Krem shortly behind, but Adaira ducked around, assuming they would be able to handle the situation while she dealt with the mages. There were more than she expected.

Adaira felt a faint tickle in her ear as the reality set in, but she ignored it, ignored the breath of words and slung a bolt of lightning at one of the mages. It was not the storm’s lightning, but her own, and he stumbled, paralyzed for a moment. It was enough to break the rhythm of the other spellcasters, though, and she pressed forward, her long blade slicing through the robes and abdomen of one of the unfortunate men with ease. It was lucky robes were so fashionable for mages. The other mages were circling her now-- they recognized her immediate threat to the other Tevinter soldiers. She ground her teeth as words teased her ear again. She could hear the cries of pain from one of the Chargers.

She lunged for the first mage, his body already weakened by her lightning, but a psychic blast forced her to stumble back, and his fellow threw out a ball of flame. She was glad she had forsaken her own robes for metal, as it would not catch fire, but the heat still burned at her back, and she let out a sharp noise-- her barrier had failed, which meant it had for the others, too. She leapt for her initial assailant, swinging her sword, meaning only to force him out of the way. She cast another ward around the other Chargers that she could reach, forsaking her own for the time being.

She had come too close to the first mage she had downed, however, and before she could step away, a knife sank into her calf, bringing her to a knee. She screamed, and again felt a strange flare in her chest, the words in her ear growing louder, more terrifying.

_“I can help destroy them all. I will give you the power. I can give you what you want.”_

She threw her hand out, lightning leaping from her fingers. It was meant to buy time rather than kill, and it pushed the two surviving mages away before she turned it to finish off her first victim, his flesh blackening beneath her fingers. Finished with him, she let out a pained noise as she jerked the blade free, and forced herself to her feet while downing a healing potion. She had not thought to refill her belt, and it was her last. It would not heal the wound, but she would at least be saved from bleeding out. Her spirit blade was drawing on her mana as well, but she was not given the chance to take in a lyrium potion too, before the mages began to spew fire once more. It was all she could do to throw her energies into a barrier, pushing the flames just enough away from her to keep her from being roasted alive. The heat was still impressive, however, and the barrage only stopped when one mage found himself with an arrow to the thigh. It was all Dalish could manage before she had to return her attention to herself.

“Give in to me, and you will destroy these beasts who call themselves men, who seek to part you from what has been hard-won."

She pushed toward the mage who was still assailing her with flame, though he took steps away from her, pulling her further from her comrades. If she moved too far, she wouldn’t be able to replenish their barriers, which may have already fallen once again. She was angry-- the scouts should have done their job better, Adanna should have insisted on more personnel, Bull or Gatt should have seen this coming. Dorian should have been able to give them warning about the Vint strategies. Vivienne fancied herself a mage beyond equal, but her sword was notably absent.

_“I feel the rage in your soul, give it to me!”_   
_“You would tear them to pieces! Ask it of me.”_

She let out a shout, trying to push the voice away, drown its haunting tone and clawing words with her own voice. A bolt of lightning arced from her palm toward the fire-wielding mage, but it was very nearly all the mana she had left to call. He stumbled, and it was enough for her to down a potion and refresh her barriers.

“Adaira!”

The woman flung out her palm to paralyze the men again, and risked glancing over her shoulder. She didn’t know who called for her, but she fixated suddenly on Krem, down, and not moving.

_“You will burn their bones to ash and they will be no more!”_

She felt flames at her back again, even through her barrier-- the other Chargers were bloodied and battered, and they were still more Vints to be dealt with. She could not take the two mages on her own. The whispers were deafening in her ears, each word like the pound of a wardrum. Her spirit blade faded, the hilt falling to the ground. Her hands came up, clenching, and she felt herself tremble, felt the very air itself tighten around her, building into something. She screamed, feral and pained, the world taking on the scent of charred flesh before falling black.


	7. Easy Target

Taking the lower hill had been the easier job, Gatt had said as they crept towards the Venatori encampment. That had set Adanna’s mind at ease, and yet, as she cut down the last of the Tevinter mages, she rushed to the edge of the cliff, searching out her sister’s familiar form. As far as she could tell, they stood victorious on the hill, appearing to be free of any grievous injuries.

“Right, signaling the dreadnought,” Gatt said, crouching by the Vints’ campfire.

“Chargers already sent theirs up. See ‘em down there?”

“I knew you gave them the easier job.”

Adanna couldn’t help but feel that things were going too well. She knew she wouldn’t worry as much if her twin weren’t with the Chargers and away from her protection, but that hardly quieted her nerves. To keep her hands from balling she focused on wiping wet hair from her face, slicking away what water she could despite the futility of the effort. Her hands fell to her potion belt again. Full, with an extra lyrium potion for Adaira.

“There’s the dreadnought,” Bull said, pointing toward the ocean. The sounds of bells signaled the behemoth’s approach. “Ah, that brings back memories,” he said with a sigh and a half-smile.

Adanna resisted the urge to tap her foot. She wanted the smuggling ship sunk, memories be damned. Not a moment later and the assault began, two flaming projectiles plowing into the smaller ship, well-aimed despite the tumultuous seas. If it weren’t for the rain, the vessel would have caught fire, but the incessant rain drowned out most of the flames.

“Crap,” Bull growled, and Adanna bristled, stepping back to the cliffside.

More Venatori mages, and a lot of them. “Shit,” she hissed, rushing back to her sword. “There’s still time to fall back if you signal now.” She looked to Bull.

His face twisted. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“Your men need to hold that position, Bull.” Gatt warned.

“They do that, they’re dead.” Bull turned to the smaller man, voice heavy.

“And if they don’t, the Venatori retake it, and the dreadnought is dead,” Gatt countered. “You’d be throwing away an alliance between the Inquisition and the Qunari!” He looked to Adanna for support, but she could only manage a frown. The elf looked back to Bull. “You’d be declaring yourself Tal-Vashoth. With all you’ve given the Inquisition, the Ben-Hasrath think you’ve betrayed us already.” Bull all but sneered at his friend “I stood up for you, Hissrad! I told them--”

“We don’t have time for your guilt-tripping, Gatt,” Adanna hissed. She looked to Bull. “Don’t call the retreat. _We’ll_ go to them. Cassandra, you stay with Gatt and make sure they don’t try to retake this hill as well.”

Cassandra frowned, but nodded.

Bull paused, surprise flashing over his features. “Do you think we’ll make it in time?”

“If Adaira’s barriers can hold up, but I’m not going to stand here and take the chance,” Adanna shrugged, looking to Vivienne, who nodded.

“We don’t have much time,” Vivienne held up her hands. “We’ll have to go down the cliff. I suppose this outfit was already ruined anyway.” She let out a low sigh and with a quick flick of her wrist, cast barriers.

Adanna was already jogging, away from the cliff face, back toward where the hill slanted outward. It was a sharp incline, but she couldn’t wait. She stumbled as she ran, the angle causing her to run too quickly, but she managed to avoid any serious injury, likely in thanks to Vivienne’s barrier. The sounds of the Chargers fighting off the Venatori mages could already be heard. Adanna paused-- there was a tension in the air that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end, despite its saturation. The tension broke not even a moment later with a flash of burning light and a scream.

There was a moment where Adanna could do nothing, and she stood, frozen in place. That had been her her sister’s voice. A rough shove from Bull reminded her of the stakes and her feet carried her forward again, up the hill. The first bodies they reached lay still, eyes open, robes shredded, but those closer smelled distinctly of charred meat. Others who had managed to avoid the worst of the blast still stumbled as if numb, and made for easy targets.

Adanna stopped at her sister’s body, crouching and feeling along the other woman’s neck with inexperienced hands. With a frustrated grunt, she slid the mage’s helmet off, a new wave of panic setting in as she saw blood smeared across her face. She took a breath and leaned close. She was breathing, but it was a faint, strained sound. “Adaira!” She shook her sister’s shoulder, but stopped when Vivienne put a hand on her.

“You might hurt her worse, darling. Focus on the enemies for now.” Vivienne’s tone was firm, but far from harsh 

Adanna looked up, shocked at the suggestion, but in the back of her mind, she knew Vivienne was right-- the Chargers were in danger, not just Adaira. She swallowed and then nodded. “You keep her safe,” she instructed as she rose, picking up her sword again.

Vivienne nodded and cast another barrier spell. “Go.”

* * *

Adanna could barely stomach the sight of her sister, laying on a cot, unconscious. Her face had been cleaned and her armored removed to allow her to breathe better, but Adanna was certain there was some unknown injury, something the healers had missed. Vivienne had offered her expertise, suggesting that the dramatic show Adaira had put on had simply been too much for her. It would explain the nosebleed and the lack of responsiveness. Stitches had found little wrong with her physically, outside of a deep wound to her calf, along with minor burns. But that had done little to settle her nerves, so she insisted on sitting beside her sister, waiting. It was boring, but she didn’t dare leave. When Adaira woke up, she had to know what had happened, had to know she hadn’t been left to die.

Adanna’s hands clenched at the cup she held, frustration growing. It wasn’t Adaira’s fault, of course. It was the Ben-Hassrath, demanding that she be so limited in the forces she brought with her. Men had died on that hill, her men, Bull’s men. She hadn’t even bothered to learn their names beforehand. If only she had brought just a few more, archers perhaps, positioned them in the treeline. She shook her head and stood. She couldn’t take it anymore. She pushed aside the tent flap and made her way to the center of camp.

A tent had been erected and a small stand constructed for the fire pit. Adanna strode over, tilting her head as she noticed the Seeker, staring down at a book with a ravenous expression. It wasn’t often that Adanna had the chance to sneak up on Cassandra. It was surprising, and charming, to find her so engrossed, and Adanna had never seen her with a book before. “Good book?” She asked, having gotten close enough to almost touch Cassandra.

Cassandra let out a surprised shout and jumped up from her seat, panic clear on her features. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, shoving the book behind her while trying to regain her composure.

Adanna held in a laugh as she folded her arms across her chest. “Reading is nothing to be ashamed of.” She studied Cassandra for a moment before her eyes narrowed. “Are you blushing?”

“What would I have to blush about,” Cassandra turned away with a huff, dropping her book on her seat and propping her hands on her hips.

“You tell me,” Adanna raised her brows, amused.

“It’s of no interest to you, I’m certain.” Adanna continued to watch her and Cassandra finally relented. “It’s a _book_.”

“Yes, it is.”

Stooping to pick the book back up, she stared at the cover. “It’s... One of Varric’s tales. _Swords & Shields_. The latest chapter.” She looked back to Adanna, as if for reassurance.

“There’s nothing wrong with reading. I’m sure Varric is an excellent author.”

“It’s frivolous. There are more important things for me to do.” She looked down to the cover again.

“You’re waiting around on the Storm Coast. There isn’t much to do, and there’s certainly no harm in entertaining yourself with a story. 

“It’s literature,” Cassandra said, face set. “Smutty literature,” she admitted after a beat. She looked embarrassed, but not quite ashamed, and Adanna couldn’t help but grin. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Varric,” she pleaded.

“Oh,” Adanna’s brows raised again. “Maybe _I_ should read it.”

The look of horror on Cassandra’s face alone was worth it. “You? No,” the Seeker shook her head 

“Why not?”

“You’re the _Inquisitor_.” Adanna laughed, and Cassandra continued. “They’re terrible. And magnificent. And _this one_ ends in a cliffhanger. I know Varric is working on the next one. He must be!” She looked up, an idea coming to her. “You, you could ask him to finish it, _command_ him to...” The woman stopped as if realizing her own desperation, and she frowned. “Pretend you don’t know this about me.”

“I still want to read it.”

Cassandra let out a low, frustrated grunt as she seated herself once more, staring into the fire 

“So, under that taciturn shell beats the heart of a true romantic?”

Cassandra took in a breath, her chin tilting slightly upward as she looked back at Adanna. “Why must it be an accusation? Romance is not the sole province of dithering ladies in frilly dresses. It is _passion_ , it is being swept away by the pursuit of an ideal. What is _not_ to like about that?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Adanna held up her hands. “I like this part of you.”

Cassandra hesitated, her jaw falling open for a moment as she stared at Adanna, another blush settling in over her cheeks. She cleared her throat, as her chin lowered. “I don’t swoon,” she said, perhaps a bit defensively.

“Of course not, that’s important, all things considered. I meant the passion.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s... Not so bad then,” she said, her eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher Adanna’s meaning.

“I’ll talk to Varric about finishing the next chapter, but I’ll have to actually read them to convince him I’m interested.” 

Cassandra hesitated before nodding. “I’ll bring you what I have when we get back to Skyhold.” She fidgeted for a second before cracking the book open once more. 


	8. Poetry

Waking was not a pleasant experience. Her vision was hazy and dark, her head too heavy, and her limbs did not respond as they should have. The blankets were heavy, hot, trapping, and as Adaira threw them away in an attempt to free herself, the sudden shift to cold burned her skin. “Adanna,” she groaned as her feet hit the floor-- the dirt floor-- and she crashed to the ground.

She heard the sound of a tent flap being pushed aside with a violent motion. “Shit!” A familiar voice cursed as hands found Adaira’s armpits, pulling her up to her feet again. Vision unfocused, she could make out a face familiar enough to be her own. “Damn, you would wake up the second I leave the tent. Come, on the cot.” Adanna lowered her back to the temporary bed once more. A cup was pressed to Adaira’s hands, and she sipped from it, the cold liquid beginning to clear her thoughts, and soothing her throat. She blinked languidly, allowing her body to settle back into reality. Rain was drumming on the tent; the air was frigid, salty. They were still at the Storm Coast.

Adanna was watching her, and Adaira looked up after a long moment, still clenching the cup. “What happened?” she croaked, and Adanna wet her lips.

“The Venatori forces nearly took the hill. They almost killed all of you,” Adanna paused, voice tight. Adaira’s grip tightened as she nodded, urging her sister to continue. “But with the storm-- your lightning was already powerful-- but this was. Something else. You must have passed out from the strain. The mages that had engaged you were charred, many of the other Vints paralyzed, at least. By the time Bull and I got down there--”

“The Chargers-- what happened to _them_ ,” Adaira urged.

“Some of them didn’t make it.” Adanna’s voice was quiet, and Adaira’s heart dropped. “Others were injured, but Stitches got them through the worst of it. He didn’t know what to make of you, so we’ve remained here. But the alliance with the Qunari is set.”

Adaira was silent as she continued to sip at the water, ignoring her sister’s eyes. “Krem?” she finally asked, her voice barely a whisper.

Adanna took a breath, and Adaira braced herself. “Alive. It was close, but he is alive. Stitches got him back on his feet, so to speak.”

Adiara let out a low, relieved breath as her fingers relaxed. She felt guilt swell up not a moment later. How could she be relieved when Adanna had told her other Chargers now lay dead. She had seen Krem, prone, Venatori standing over him. That sight had been the catalyst, and she could only thank the Maker that it had been storming, or the whispers might have foretold a different ending. “I... Thought I had--.” She took a deep breath and leaned back, “It doesn’t matter.”

Adanna watched her for a moment as if waiting for her to change her mind, but when she didn’t she pressed her lips into a fine line and refilled Adaira’s cup. “Drink up. You need to go see the healers yourself. The Chargers will still be there when you are done.”

There was a long pause between them, Adanna toying with her fingers as she waited for Adaira to regain more of her senses. “I was watching,” Adanna said, letting out a low breath. “I wanted to call the retreat, but--”

“I know,” Adaira looked to her sister, expression firm. “I know you wanted to. I know why you didn’t. I made the choice to stay with the Chargers.”

Adanna took a long breath, but Adaira took her hand, quieting any words she might have been preparing. They were silent again for several moments, Adanna filling her cup once more.

“I saw that you attacked the mages yourself, leaving the others behind. I thought you were supposed to be the _rational_ sister.”

“Perhaps I’m a bit more like you than we thought, hm?” Adaira lifted her brows and pushed herself to her feet.

* * *

 

The newly-built infirmary was a far cry from the tents that had been. Cleaned of cobwebs and with fully-repaired walls, it might even have been cosy, were it not for the groans of the injured and dying. Adaira had been told that a few of the injured Chargers had been allowed to leave, to return to the tavern where they could drink and laugh their pain away so long as they promised not to worsen their injuries.

A beleaguered healer looked up with a heavy expression as Adaira crossed the threshold, Adanna waiting for her outside. The healer made a curt motion to a low bench, and Adaira sat, pulling up her robes to reveal the wound to her leg. It had healed quite a bit, but Adanna had insisted on the visit. The healer crouched, and Adaira looked away as the man pulled away the bandages and poked around.

“Whomever did your field dressing should be thanked,” he mused, before fetching clean bandages. “I’m going to remove these stitches.” Adaira bit her lip at the warning, hands clenching on the wood.

“Here,” a familiar voice said. Adaira looked up, and felt such a great relief she nearly fell off the bench. The amount of weight taken from her mind was embarrassing, but she couldn’t force herself to look away. Krem’s arm was in a sling and his head was bandaged, but he stood before her, holding out a hand. “Might help,” he explained, motioning. Adaira hesitated, but when there was a tug on her leg, freed one hand from the bench to take his. He seemed amused, but seated himself on the bench next to her.

“You’ve never had stitches before, hm?”

“No,” Adaira admitted, trying to keep her face from twinging. She was failing. “I can’t say that I’ve been stabbed many times in my life.”

“Won’t say it’s something you get used to.”

“Can’t say I’m looking forward to next time,” she said with a soft laugh. “I am glad to see you,” she admitted after a moment. He looked surprised, but flattered. She felt her face flush at the admittance, but her words failed. The healer tugged at her stitches, and her grip tightened in response, causing the color on her cheeks to deepen.

“I’m glad to see you, too,” he said, amused again.

* * *

 

The tavern was warm and bright, filled with conversation and people. The Chargers took up a large section, even as a few filtered away for other means of entertainment or stronger drink. It had been two weeks since the near-fatal events at the Storm Coast, and they had all been enjoying their well-deserved rest while Bull and Adanna had taken to adventure elsewhere. Several of them still wore bandages, and Krem’s arm was still in a sling. Others were still at the infirmary.

Adaira sat amongst those well enough to drink, significantly more comfortable than the first time she had made such an attempt. Her legs were stretched out before her, a mug resting on her thigh. Cole was seated not far away, a drink of some sort in his hands as he listened to the stories they were sharing.

“I’m done with spiders. I’m done. No more caves, no more caverns. No more,” a man waved his hand. “I don’t care what’s down there, I don’t care what the pay is, the Inquisition can find someone else.” Krem laughed, a bright, happy sound that made Adaira’s heart swell and her lips curve into a smile as she watched him.

“Adaira,” Dalish said, lifting her chin up to indicate the human mage. “I have heard that Circle mages undergo a trial before they are made full Magi. A Harrowing?”

Taken aback by the question, it took her a moment to find her words. “Yes, a final test to ensure we’re strong enough to withstand demons.” Adaira shifted, drawing her legs back toward her as the grip on her mug tightened. “We are forbidden to speak of it to the Apprentices once we’ve survived our own, and they don’t tell us when we are to be tested.” She paused, vivid memories filtering through her mind. A flask in her hand, blue and glowing-- pure lyrium. The First Enchanter’s eyes on her.

"Drink the potion-- tastes like sweet poison on the lips.” Adaira’s eye snapped to Cole as he started to speak, his words stealing the content of her thoughts. He hadn’t been so close moments before. “Just go to sleep,” he continued, “Fade walking surrounded by Templars. Face your demons. Their demons. Summoned to test me. How dare they-- how can they steal us away as children and then weigh our lives and determine our worth. Friends lost, up to the top and then never down. They will strike me down if I should fail.” Adaira leaned away from him without meaning to, her breathing beginning to pick up pace. She wanted to stop him, that was enough, that was all they needed to know, but she was rooted in place.

“Desire, a voice telling me everything I want to hear, terrifying-- but anger, so much anger. I should let it take me, kill them, burn them to ash for what they do to us. They do not know me, they do not know my power, they won't see it coming. What will that do to Adanna. I can't leave her. I won't. Can't leave the rest of them. I hear the children cry at night. Can't let it consume me. I will not be burnt up. I am not kindling, not a body for this monster to take. I am not a monster. Never a monster." Cole looked up at her with his watery eyes, hesitant. “You are not a monster,” he said, his words seeming to be the only sound left in the tavern.

Adaira blinked, frozen in shock. Her eyes turned to the floor as her jaw clenched. She’d heard of Cole’s singular, perceptive abilities, but he had never had it used on her. She could feel anyone close enough to have heard him staring at her. Her fingers curled, nails scraping against the wood of her chair before she shoved herself away, knocking it over as she left the tavern, quickening her pace when she heard movement behind her. Her mug was discarded on a table, she thought, but wasn’t sure.

“Wait, let me try again!”

Outside, her breathing became panicked. She hadn’t thought about her Harrowing, not since she had woken up on that cold floor and been handed a silver ring for surviving. She had been forbidden to speak of it to the apprentices, and she had forbidden herself to think of it, to think of what she had almost done, the question if others had considered the same once they found out. Mages had certainly failed, but had it been weakness or choice? She had survived and thrown those thoughts away, or so she had thought.

Her muscles burned as she dashed up the steps that lead to the battlements. The wind was always blowing at the top, over the mountains and across Skyhold, freezing and vicious. It bit at her face, at her fingers, which worked at the buttons of her robes. She was overhot, burning. The wind clawed at her chest, easily working through her thin underclothes once they were exposed. Her hands rested on the parapet, fingers curling against the stone. Fear. It was fear, burning in her chest.

“Please, let me fix it,” the boy’s voice was unwelcome, as was his sudden appearance on the battlements.

Adaira snarled at him. “Begone, demon,” she spat, and he was clearly taken aback, perhaps by the lightning on her fingers. “Do not touch my mind again.”

“I can make you forget, like it never happened,” he offered again.

She was about to rebuke him again when she was interrupted. “Adaira?”

She whirled, hands clenching, to find Krem, staring at her. Of all people, it had to be him. Frantic, she swallowed, trying to force her anxiety away.

“Are you all right?” His good hand was up, guarding. Guarding against her. He was scared. There was fear in his eyes. She stepped back as he stepped forward, shaking her head.

“Don’t. You don’t--” She held up a finger in warning. He stopped approaching, but his expression changed. “Don’t look at me like that, you don’t know anything,” she spat. It was pity. She had thought of submitting to a demon, those few years ago. She deserved to be locked up, sequestered in a tower. She was a danger to everyone. “You don’t know what it’s like to be a mage, to be told that you are nothing but a danger, a corruption, unfit for this world. You don’t know what it’s like, to hear demons, to realize the Chantry was _right_ , that you are weak and that they are _waiting_ for you to fall off the edge.”

“You’re right, I don’t know what being a mage is like,” he said, watching her with sharp eyes. She had heard the Chargers complain to him before, but this was out of his league. “But I do know what it’s like to be called an abomination.”

She hesitated, words catching in her throat. She knew what he meant, and regretted her words. She looked back over her shoulder. Cole was gone. When she finally started speaking, her voice was tight, painful. “I heard it-- with Corypheus. I wanted him dead, and it offered me the power. I can _feel_ it, when there are too many-- when I think-- when I turn around and I’m not sure where--” Adaira’s hands came up to tangle in her own hair, and she looked down, ignoring Krem’s slow, careful steps towards her, trying to ignore the burning in her eyes. “I don’t know-- if it’s a sign of weakness, or because I almost gave in once. If they should have just made me Tranquil. I don’t know if other mages-- if they hear this, feel it. We can’t talk about it.” She felt his hand on her forearm, careful as it moved up to her wrist, working her fingers from her hair.

“You’re safe here,” he said, voice soft, pulling her hand down with his, between them. The touch was more comforting than she wanted to admit, and she lowered her other hand, tucking her hands under her armpits when he released her hand. “You might be a mage, but you are one of them. You are one of us. The Inquisition.” They stood, cold and quiet for a few moments before Krem reached out again to take hold of her shoulder, giving her a light shake. “C’mon, horns up, hm?”

“Horns up,” Adaira agreed begrudgingly, managing to look up at him. His face was sincere, and for a moment, she hated him for it, hated the way it made her heart stutter.

“Let’s get you to bed. Wouldn’t want you to freeze up here. Then the Chargers wouldn’t have any mages. And your sister promised the Chief a dragon, so we need all the help we can get.”

* * *

 

Even knowing what Adaira did of crafting, it was odd to see the dragon carved away, each of its body parts stored for some arcane usage. Blood was collected first, as much as it could be, magic used to shock the beast’s heart into pumping blood until there was nothing left. The webbing was carefully cut away, the gigantic bones disjointed, its claws carefully collected. Like ants to any other carcass, really. Watching the work progress, she couldn’t help but notice the absence of Krem and Bull. She would have expected Bull at least to be trumpeting about their victory, celebrating with a convenient cask. At the very least, making jokes at Krem’s expense. This was for him, after all-- the Chargers had experienced some losses and quite a few grievous injuries.

She couldn’t imagine either of them running off, though, not with all the chest-pounding that was going on. She rounded the beast’s foreleg to find them standing around the bloodied maw, debating.

She was quiet as she approached, watching as they hunched over, motioning toward the fangs. Their voices were low, and their faces conspiratorial. “They’re not going to miss a few teeth,” Bull grumbled, his hand reaching toward the beast’s mouth.

Narrowing her eyes, she cleared her throat. They both looked up in surprise, Bull not breaking stride as he ripped a tooth out of the dragon’s jaw. “Hey Sparks,” he said, nonchalant grin spreading over his face.

“Hey Bull,” she motioned to the tooth. “Qunari thing?”

“Dragons are sacred to the Qunari. I can’t just kill one and not take a piece for myself.”

Adaira’s eyes turned to Krem, who shrugged, good arm held behind his back. “You know... Qunari,” he reasoned.

“Hey!” Adanna called out in protest, storming toward the small group of people. “I’m saving that head,” she pointed to the beast, and then glanced at Bull’s hands. “Leave it mostly intact. Nobles will come from all corners to see it, and I want to see the looks on their faces when they realize what they’ve been snubbing.” She was all but grinning as she surveyed the scaled corpse.

* * *

 

The celebration held for the dragon-slaying was everything Adaira had expected: pompous nobles staring at a great dragon head, spewing pretty words and promising the support for the Inquisition-- soldiers, money, words. She had smiled and nodded, shaken hands and forced pleasantries. It reminded her of her youth and her visits home from the Tower. Even as she mingled, she found herself searching for a missing face.

She found it odd that Krem was missing, but that was likely her personal bias. Bull was the leader of the Chargers, Krem just their lieutenant. Crossing her arms over the front of her gown, she caught Bull’s eye, and let out an exasperated breath. She held up a hand, knowing full well what he would say if he were to come near, and she heard him laugh from across the hall. The surprise came when Adanna swept up from behind her, wineglass in hand.

“You don’t have to stay here,” she whispered, resting her chin on Adaira’s shoulder.

“Are you in league with that giant oaf?” Adaira responded, watching the nobles mill about, all of them feeling far too self-important.

“He may have mentioned your affections in passing.” Adanna’s tone was amused, and Adaira huffed at her.

“And now I assume the entire Inquisition knows. You’re a terrible gossip. You’re also terrible at hiding your own inclinations.” She looked to Cassandra, who stood on the other side of the Hall, looking terribly bored by the party.

“Hush,” Adanna chided, prodding her sister in the back. “Go to the tavern,” she said.

Adaira swallowed, dipping her chin before she turned, doing her best not to rush out of the hall toward the tavern. She felt excitement swell in her chest, and lifted her skirts as she hurried down the steps. She didn’t pause until she reached the bottom, the warm light spilling out of the tavern, inviting. She could hear the sounds of revelry, but felt a knot twist in her stomach. That was not where she belonged.

She let out a low breath, making her way over to the retaining wall, seating herself on it. She smoothed the front of her dress with frustrated motions. She hated feeling so conflicted, but the fabric beneath her fingers spoke all too clearly. Her place was not in the tavern with the Chargers. She was not a Charger. She could move amongst the nobles unimpeded, and despite her time in the Circle, was still a noblewoman. She could sit with the Chargers, be amongst them, but she was not one of them. Her fingers curled in her lap, and she stared down at them, feeling the mountain chill set in through her gown. “You’re not in the Circle anymore,” she murmured to herself, but her words did little to inspire her. “You’re not in the Circle anymore.” She looked back to the tavern, letting out another breath. She was a noblewoman, and a mage; she didn’t belong anywhere. She rose after another moment, but turned instead back toward her chambers.

* * *

 

There was no mistaking the uncomfortable expression on Adanna’s face, but Adaira did have to wonder why she insisting on meeting in the library. Adanna hated reading.

Her twin stood in a quiet alcove, clutching a book in her hand and chewing on the inside of her lip as Adaira approached. She glanced about, as if checking for someone and finally held the book out. “I-- marked a few pages. You’ve done a lot of reading-- tell me what you think?” Adanna asked, holding out her prize.

Adaira frowned, looking down at the book. “Poetry?” She quirked a brow.

Adanna’s lips tightened, and she pulled the book away. “If you’re not going to help--”

“Give it to me,” Adaira said, tugging on the book.

“It’s-- important, okay?” Adanna slowly released the tome.

“What is it for?” Adaira flipped open to one of the poems. “Or should I say who,” she glanced from the words back to her sister. “A love poem.” She couldn’t suppress the grin.

“Just because-- fine, give it back,” Adanna growled, reaching for the book again, but Adaira reached out, a hand on her sister’s chest as she carefully turned to another marked page.

“Are these all love poems? Adanna, I didn’t think you had it in you!” She grinned, wide and taunting.

“If you’re not going to help, give it back!” Far from the confident warrior she typically was, Adaira’s teasing had reduced Adanna into a squeaking, blushing child. “Give it back!” Both of her arms reached out, but Adaira held the book away, the hand on Adanna not faltering.

“Inquisitor?” Cassandra’s accented voice had Adanna sinking back, more color rising quickly to her cheeks.

Adaira pulled the book back close, away from Cassandra’s prying eyes. “Apologies, Seeker,” she couldn’t keep the laugh out of her voice. “I was just teasing my sister over a trivial matter. If you need her for more important business, she’s all yours.”

“I simply wish to speak with you regarding the _guest_ Varric has brought to Skyhold, if I might?” Cassandra looked to Adanna, toying with her fingers in anxiety.

“Of course, Cassandra,” Adanna nodded, and cast a glare in Adaira’s direction.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Adaira tilted her head and winked. Adanna reached for the book, but she swept it away. “Don’t worry sister, I’ll double-check your research for you. Find me again when you have a moment.” The venom in Adanna’s eyes was unmistakable, but Adaira only found it all the more amusing.

“Thank you,” Adanna said through a clenched jaw as Adaira turned, leaving Cassandra to wonder.


	9. Here Lies the Abyss

Gripping the bookshelf with one hand and propping a foot on a lower shelf, Adaira pulled herself up with a grunt, snatching a book up off a higher shelf. The bookcase wobbled, threatening to topple over before she let herself down again with a slight hop, steadying the large set of shelves with a careful hand. She had absolved to spend less time in the tavern with the Chargers. She had better things to do than blush like a child and hope to catch a man’s eye for a fraction of a second. Not to mention Bull was always there, and the qunari never missed anything, even missing an eye.

“You know, they have ladders for that.” Adaira looked to see Krem at the top of the stairs, a grin quirking his lips.

“You stood there and watched me risk my neck for this book, knowing you could have had an easier time reaching it?” She motioned to him with the book and shook her head. “Men, only good for two things.”

“And what are those?”

“Smashing things and carrying boxes. Can’t even help a lady with her books.”

“That looks rather heavy-- I could carry it, if you’d like. It’s not a box, but I like to think I’m fairly clever.”

Adaira grinned, holding the book out, and he took it, examining the cover as she led him to a small table where other books she had been using for research sat in neat piles. “So, did you come up here to carry my things, or were you looking for me?” she asked, turning to him, fingers trailing along the edge of the table as she moved along its length.

“Ah, yes, I was” he admitted, dropping his head for a second. “I am not sure this is entirely appropriate.” He paused, looking around the small tower floor. Adaira moved back toward him, sensing his need for discretion, and he swallowed before continuing, his voice low. “I have told you about my father. And-- with all the power the Inquisition is massing, all the resources, I was just...” He stared at the book as he turned it over in his hands, nervous. “I know Lady Nightingale has informants all throughout Thedas, so I thought, I might... ask a favor. My father. I wanted to know if she could have her agents find him.” He looked up at her, expression pained.

“I-- yes, of course-- I could ask Adanna to have her look into it. She might need more information, your father’s name or your mother’s, but yes, of course.” Adaira nodded, reaching out to put a comforting hand on his arm.

“I will pay,” Krem offered quickly. “Once he’s found, I’ll pay the Inquisition, whatever is required. And to have him freed.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary, but I will ask.”

“Thank you, Adaira. This means a lot to me.” He nodded. “Really, thank you,” he repeated before turning on his heel.

“Krem?”

He turned back to her, and she held out her hand. “Oh!” He let out a dry laugh of embarrassment and handed the book over. “My apologies.”

* * *

 

Adamant was appropriately imposing, on its own, looming threat of demonic invasion aside. Krem remained at Skyhold with the other Chargers still recovering from wounds, but Adaira accompanied her sister through the front gates once they had been appropriately smashed. The battle was unlike anything she had seen before-- more violent as they continued, but it suddenly gave way to nothing when thy reached the center courtyard and found Erimond and Clarel. Their problems were only exacerbated when Erimond called Corypheus' dragon, and Adaira knew it would not hesitate to destroy them all this time.

Being chased across Adamant by the dragon was far from ideal. Having fought off demons and wardens alike, Adanna's squad was beleaguered enough. They stood little hope against the archdemon that screamed at them from the sky, summoning up terrible memories of Haven. But the real terror only began when Adaira turned to see Adanna rushing back to help the Warden Alistair, the battlements crumbling beneath their feet as they fled. Her stomach had pitched violently when she watched her sister reach out for her, falling away on a crumbling piece of what had been solid stonework not moments before. There was no hesitation, no rational thought, Adaira had turned back, throwing herself from the edge even as it continued to break, mind desperately clawing at her known spells to save them.

They fell, twisting through the air even as a green rip appeared below them, opening into another world, the rubble not making it through. Adaira watched as her sister stopped just short of hitting the ground. She reached out a finger toward the ground, but Adaira reached her first, crashing into her back and onto the ground with echoed groans. Adanna shoved her off without ceremony, and they both staggered back to their feet. Adaira picked up her hilt off the ground, the familiar shape comforting.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Alistair said, taking an uncertain step back. He was standing perpendicular to the ground, and Adaira shook her head, trying to make certain she wasn’t imagining. He turned to look at Adanna, who frowned up at him.

"The Chantry owes me an apology. This looks nothing like the Maker's bosom," Hawke frowned as she studied the area, standing upside-down on another spike of land. Her hands were on her hips and she shook her head.

“We’re not dead,” Alistair stared around them, “the Inquisitor did something with the mark. Opened another rift. We’re in the Fade.”

The simple phrase churned Adaira's stomach, and her hands clenched against her sides. Everything screamed at her that something was wrong. “The Fade looked different last time I was here,” Hawke said, still peering about, even as she picked her way toward what seemed to be common ground.

“I’ve seen my father in the Fade. I’ve seen a demon pretending to be my sister in the Fade. But I’ve never seen this,” Alistair agreed.

“The first time I ever entered the fade, it looked like a castle, filled with gold and silks, I met a lovely desire demon,” Dorian offered. Adaira turned to him, surprised, even as she heard Vivienne let out a derisive snort. “Ah, yes, I hear your ‘Harrowings’ are slightly more strenuous,” he rebuked their disdain. “Regardless, perhaps the difference is that we are here physically. This is no one’s dream.”

“The Fade itself must be reacting to our presence here,” Vivienne said. “I have never seen it react so strongly.”

“Well, we can’t assume we’re safe, despite a lack of pressing danger...” Hawke trailed off as she looked up to the Fade-sky, a frown on her small mouth. “That huge demon Erimond was trying to summon was right on the other side of that Rift he was using, and there might be others.”

“Ahh, this is shit!” Bull exclaimed, a snarl on his face. “I’ll fight whatever you give me, Boss, but nobody said nothing about getting dragged through the ass-end of demon town.”

“I-- wouldn’t have brought you if I had known,” Adanna offered, throwing out her hands in an apologetic-but-helpless gesture.

“In the real world, that rift was close. Perhaps we can exit that way,” Alistair offered.

“Beats waiting here,” Adanna nodded. “It has to be that way,” she motioned toward the only path that was available to them. Adaira followed, trying not to cling too closely to her sister. She could hear Bull mumbling to himself over her shoulder.

“If I get possessed, feint on my blindside, and then go low. Cullen says I leave myself open,” the qunari said, tension all but pouring off of him.

“I will keep that in mind,” Cassandra’s voice echoed unnaturally.

The party moved forward, what appeared to be water sloshing obnoxiously around their ankles. As they reached the top of a flight of slimy stairs, Adaira balked. She had never met the Divine, but there was no mistaking the Chantry garments. “Maker!” Adanna exclaimed as she came up the stairs behind her twin, panic setting in on her face.

“I greet you, Warden, and you, Champion,” the woman said, a small smile on her weathered face.

“Divine Justinia,” Adanna murmured, dumbfounded.

* * *

 

Charred corpses-- black and twisted with lips pulled tight over exposed teeth-- lumbered forward, groaning. Their fingers were claws, eyes empty hollows, and yet they stared at her, staring into Adaira’s core. She balked, staggering backward, even as other members of the party leapt forward. They had no fear of the strange monstrosities. They could not be real-- they were a trick of the fade, of the fear demon the Divine’s spirit had warned them about. She shook her head, attempting to clear her thoughts as her sword burst to life. The creatures were coming for her, coming for all of them, almost too many. One jumped for her, its strange limbs far too powerful, but she cut it down in the air, fear numbing her. Another was skittering towards her, too quickly to be natural, causing her stomach to churn violently even as she struck at it. A limp went first, and then its head. It crumpled, mouth still agape, and Adaira tore her eyes away.

“Spiders,” Adanna spat, a grimace on her face.

“Spiders?” Adanna stared at her sister, incredulous.

“What I would have given to see spiders,” Bull commented.

“You... didn’t see spiders,” Adanna concluded with a frown. “What did you see?”

“Something the fear demon created for us, I’m sure. It doesn’t matter,” Adaira shook her head and waved at the blackened bodies, trying her best to ignore them. “We should continue. We have little time.”

Adanna nodded and turned, leading them forward.

“Oh. We have a visitor. Some silly little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from her shoulders,” a voice sounded from nowhere, deep and unsettling. There were no members of the party that didn’t hesitate, searching around them, but they found nothing. “You should have thanked me, and left your fear where it lay, forgotten.” There was a warning in the tone, grinding at Adaira’s mind. “You think the pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fear is me. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.”

The sound of laughter rumbled out from nowhere, deep and unsettling as it rattled Adaira’s bones. “Perhaps I should be afraid,” the voice continued, causing most of the members of the party to stop and stare around once more. Bull was looking pointedly ahead, fists clenched tight against his thighs. “Facing the most powerful members of the Inquisition.” It laughed again, a low derisive chuckle. “The qunari will make a lovely host for one of my minions. Or maybe I will ride his body myself.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Bull growled under his breath.

“Oh, a little mage.” Adaira flinched, feeling something scrape at her thoughts, grating and grinding away at her mind. “The world is bigger than you expected, and you’re on the edge every day. You have never truly been in control. They all fear you, even him. He will fall by your hand. They will all fall by your hand.”

Adanna turned back, but Adaira waved her forward, refusing to give her more than a moment of eye contact. She could feel Vivienne staring at her as well. This wasn’t something she wanted to discuss, even if they did have the time. “It’s going to continue to chatter, there’s no use standing here and staring,” she all but snapped as Adanna continued to watch her. With an irritated grunt, she shoved past her sister. Bull seemed to be in agreement as he barreled along behind her.

It wasn’t long before the creature had returned to taunt the party, words aimed at a new target. “A Seeker of Truth.” It laughed again, and Adaira could feel the woman bristle. “Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that your ‘faith’ has been for naught.” Cassandra let out a disgusted scoff and shook her head, even as Adanna hesitated again to look at her.

“And the Inquisitor herself. A child, weak and fumbling, entirely dependent on others-- her advisors, her sister, her love-- not a leader but a puppet ignorant of her own strings. You will fail, Adanna, and the world’s destruction will be your fault.”

Adanna swung her sword, snarling as it bit into a slimy pillar. “Wherever this thing is, we’re killing it,” she growled. “I want it dead.”

* * *

 

"They all fear you, even him. He will fall by your hand. They will all fall by your hand."

The words bit at Adaira as she crossed the bridge back into Skyhold. The battle at Adamant had been a victory, but it sat hard and sharp in her gut. The fear demon had taken a toll on all who had fallen into the fade, and leaving Hawke behind was a heavy price to pay. And yet, as she took in Skyhold, nothing seemed amiss. Varric was quiet, but there was no bellow of thunder, no lightning raging across the sky at her loss. The Dwarf had promised something of the like when her lover in Kirkwall found out.

Adaira swung her leg over and slipped her foot from the stirrup before dropping down to the ground. A stable hand held his hands out for her reins, and she passed them along, feeling rather small and vulnerable with her mount gone. Adanna looked to her for a moment, but gave a shake of her head and looked away as she made for the steps toward the upper courtyard. The entire group was solemn and quiet. They had traveled ahead of the main forces and arrived a day or two earlier, so those waiting to greet them were few.

Krem had come to find Bull, Adaira was certain, but the qunari waved him off, heading toward the tavern with heavy footsteps. She felt bad for him, honestly; his greatest fears made manifest in a demon too large even for him to properly fight. Adaira tucked her hands into her armpits against the cold, content to head back to her room, but her pace slowed as Krem turned to her.

“Glad to see you made it back in one piece. We were a bit worried about you, with the stunt you pulled against the Venatori,” he said, a genial grin on his face. Adaira offered a weak smile in return, but had trouble finding words to respond. His grin faded and he reached for her shoulder, but she shied away and his hand dropped. “Are you all right?”

Adaira took a deep breath, her eyes falling to the ground in front of her. “We-- fell into the fade, long story, I suppose. There was a demon. It spoke to everyone’s greatest fears. Left a few of us unsettled,” she gave a soft, sarcastic laugh and looked back up but away.

“Shit,” Krem let out a low noise of understanding. “I should have been there. For-- for the Chief. He hates demons... Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Me?” Adaira raised an eyebrow and he nodded. She was quiet for a moment, the simple act of keeping her hands warm shifting into something more akin to hugging herself as she thought. “Krem, are you-- do you fear me?” She looked back to him, expression twisted.

“What?” he laughed, “No, I don’t. Why would I?”

“I’m a mage,” she said, her tone a bit sharp. “An apostate, at this point. A murderer. My control could fail at any moment and I could send half of you to the afterlife.”

“I’m Tevinter. I’ve met a lot of mages, and you’re better than most. And only as much a murderer as I am,” he said, tone firm.

“I apologize,” she said abruptly, forcing her hands to settle at her sides. “You always seem to be the one to catch me at my worst.” She let out a sigh. “You should not see this part of me.”

“It’s not so bad,” he gave her a half smile. “Lets me know that you’re human.” She frowned at him, and he faltered. “I mean-- not as in an abomination-- just, you know, stuffy noble, corset too tight-- that-- that’s all.”

“You think my corset’s too tight?”

Krem faltered, color rising to his cheeks, and he let out a laugh. “You caught me. I can’t talk my way out of this.”

She gave him a weak smile. “I should see myself to bed,” she said, and he nodded.

“Would you mind company on your walk?”

Adaira was surprised at the offer, but shook her head, and he escorted her to her chambers for the second time. When they reached the door, she considered asking him to stay for a single, selfish moment. She was loathe to admit that she didn’t want to be alone, and even more so that he would be her preferred company. But she swallowed the thought, and gave a quiet farewell before closing the heavy door behind her.

* * *

 

A knock at her door had Adaira startled, the ink she had been writing with splotching across the page. She took an irritated breath and put replaced her inkwell’s stopper before moving toward the door. She smoothed her hair down, and checked her robes. Pulling the door open, she forced a smile, but was taken aback when she found Krem standing on the other side. “Good morning,” she managed, running her fingers through her hair in a self-conscious attempt to tame it once more.

“My lady,” his chin dipped. “I came to check on you.”

Adaira’s lips pressed into a thin line of embarrassment. “I’m fine,” she said, her tone a touch sharp. She wasn’t sure why the statement irked her, if it was because it implied that she was fragile, or that he kept finding his way to her chambers and leading her mind elsewhere.

“I-- didn’t mean to imply--,” he paused, glancing about for something to look at other than her for a moment. “Would you like to take a walk with me?”

“Sure,” she said, a touch too quickly, stepping across the threshold and closing the door shut behind her. She braided her hair as they walked, Krem’s hands clasped behind his back, his wounded arm now free of the sling he had worn for so many weeks. Their pace was slow, meandering, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was waiting for her to say something. Once she had finished with her hair, she tucked her hands under her arms to keep them from balling up. They had reached the upper courtyard’s retaining wall before he paused, turning and starting to speak before they were interrupted.

“Lieutenant Aclassi!” The call came from one of Leliana’s agents, fast approaching the pair. “My lady,” he nodded at Adaira but turned his attention back to Krem. “Your father has been located, and his freedom paid for. He and your mother have been reunited, and make their way to port. They should set sail within the week.”

“They-- are being brought to Skyhold?”

“The Inquisition has need of tailors, and Leliana believed your father would be in need of work and supplies,” the agent said with a short nod.

Krem’s stance went slack, arms dangling at his sides, expression a strange mixture of relief, disbelief, and anxiety. “Thank you,” he managed after a long moment. The messenger nodded and turned away.

“Krem?” Adaira asked after another beat, the man’s eyes still unfocused. She worried he might topple over, but at her voice, he lowered himself to the ground, forearms resting on his knees, his head hanging. Adaira hesitated, but crouched beside him, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. He gripped her hand, and she was surprised when she felt his shoulders shake with soft sobs. She pulled his head to her chest, shifting to kneel beside him in the dirt.

Krem was quiet and still after several minutes, one hand still gripping hers, the other clutching at her robes. “Apologies, my lady,” he said, voice tight as he pulled away, wiping his face.

“There’s no need,” she replied, her voice soft. “This is the least I can do.”

“Can I kiss you?” He asked suddenly, expression intent.

“Yes,” she breathed. Her heart swelled as she leaned forward, his hand coming up to cup her face as their lips met. It was hard, and lasted several moments before breaking, but it was still too short, and he leaned away, a grin on his features.

“I should make preparations,” he said, rising to his feet and pulling her up as well.

“Mhm,” Adaira nodded, numb from the insistent pounding and adulation in her chest. He gave her hand a quick squeeze and was gone, leaving her little more than a dazed mess, color rising to her cheeks.

“Lady Trevelyan,” Cassandra called out, her pace rushed as she approached. “Please, it is your sister.”

Adaira’s brows raised, dragged out of her stupor as she motioned for Cassandra to lead.

* * *

 

Adanna took a long drink from her mug as Adaira watched from across the tavern. Cassandra stood next to her, an expectant expression on her face. “You are her sister; speak with her. This is not healthy.”

Adaira took in a breath, looking to Cassandra. “She would value your support, too,” she said, but Cassandra frowned at her and motioned insistently. “All right!” She lifted her hands in surrender and dropped into the seat across from her sister.

“Hey,” Adanna grunted, downing what was left of her ale and motioning for another round. Adaira was surprised the tavern’s staff hadn’t cut her off quite a few hours before, but what the Herald wanted, the Herald got, she supposed.

“You’ve been drinking since last night. It’s unbecoming of the Herald of Andraste.”

Adanna leaned across the table, eyes narrowing. “Do not call me that,” she said under her breath. “You... You’re not even... Faithful anymore. And do not tell me what is unbecoming.”

Adaira wet her lips. That was something she couldn’t deny. “Not being faithful and not believing are different,” she said. Adanna responded with a grunt, and Adaira frowned, snatching the fresh mug meant for her sister and motioning to the waitress that no more should be brought to the table.

“Andraste didn’t save me. It was the Divine,” Adanna sighed, dropping her head onto her arms which had curled over the top of the table. “And you heard what that demon said.”

Adaira frowned again. “That doesn’t mean the Maker wasn’t involved.”

“When we were in Haven, when we were fighting the fear demon, when I was transported through time-- I felt no divine aid. It was just us.” Adanna motioned between them. “Just mortals.”

“Just because the Maker didn’t reach down from the sky to smite your enemies doesn’t mean you received no assistance. Something led you to that room, and something caused you to pick up that orb. Something kept Corypheus’ dragon from eating us in Haven. It was not mere chance, Adanna. That was a lot of luck if it wasn’t the Maker.” She leaned back. “It was a fear demon, you heard what it said to all of us.”

Adanna took in a breath. “I think I’ve had too much to drink for this conversation,” she admitted. “Perhaps you’re right, though,” she shifted her head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. No one else knows.” She looked up to Adaira, expression conflicted. “Do I tell them?”

“I don’t know,” She said, resting a hand on her sister’s arm. “Perhaps prayer?”

Adanna let out a snort of laughter. “It is funny to hear you suggest prayer.”

Adaira grinned and laughed as well. “Desperate times, sister. Perhaps Cassandra could help. She’s devout.”

Adanna’s expression brightened and she straightened. “That’s a good idea.”

Adaira looked to Cassandra as she stood, tilting her head to indicate she should approach. “Have a good night,” she winked and turned away as the Seeker approached. Cassandra looked surprised, but appreciative.


	10. Tailor's Son

Despite the occasional caw of Leliana's crows, the tower library was a peaceful place. It was, after all, a library. It was a drastic change from spending so much time in the tavern, and Adaira had to admit, she felt much more focused, but she wasn't certain if it was the lack of alcohol or because she was more or less alone.

Adaira let out a low sigh and leaned away from her books, mind turning back to Krem and the kiss they had shared. Her mind had wandered there often, and she found herself regretting it, but they hadn’t had much of a chance to speak since. He had been busy, of course, and she hadn't sought him out, either.

She frowned at her books for another moment before shoving her chair back and standing. She would find him and ask him what it meant, if anything. It was better to know and have it settled than pine over such a brief affair. Her stomach clenched at the thought of confronting him, and she sat back down for a moment. Perhaps it would be better to leave it as it was: a sweet, momentary respite from tensions, an inkling of what might be, once the war was over, should they both survive. A daydream. Adaira groaned quietly, covering her face with her hands. The kiss had been nothing, it had to have been nothing, and allowing herself to wallow in misery was unbecoming. She needed air, cold, hardening, mountain air.

She made her way up the stairs to the top of the tower and out onto the thin balcony. The wind wasn't as powerful as on the battlements, but it would do. Leaning on the parapet, she took in Skyhold's layout. It was odd, looking down at everyone from such a great height. She noticed a lone figure standing at the front gates of the keep, and watched as he shifted his weight from one foot to another, staring out across the bridge. He was toying with his fingers. Adaira frowned down at him. She had come up to the top of the tower specifically to avoid thinking of Krem, and there he was. "Maker," she grumbled to herself, pressing her hands to her face again in frustration.

She waited for another a moment before heading down the stairs into the main hall. She cursed all the stairs, dreading what she would find at the bottom. Krem. Just Krem. He hadn't transformed into a demon since they had last spoken. She slowed as she approached, unsure what she would even say. "Are your parents arriving soon?" she asked.

He turned, appearing to be caught off guard. "I believe so." He let out a nervous laugh. "I've been waiting here for hours, I just haven't seen either of them in soon long," he admitted. "I don't want to miss them."

Adaira nodded, looking out across the bridge as well. She couldn't imagine what he was feeling, and could find no words, so she was quiet for a moment. "Krem," she finally managed, ignoring the twist in her gut and tucking her hands into the pockets of her robe to hide their clenching. "About the kiss--"

"Ah, yes," he interrupted, "I've been meaning to speak with you about that. I don't want you to take the wrong meaning. I simply haven't been able to find the right words." He was embarrassed.

"I took no meaning from it," she offered in panic, perhaps too quickly. He turned to her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

"Yes, that's my point," he said, but got no further.

"Look!" She interrupted him to point at the edge of the bridge. Mounted forms had appeared, several Inquisition soldiers with a pair of civilians.

She heard him take in a hiss of breath and he stepped closer to the gate before stopping himself. His hands passed anxiously over the front of his armor before settling behind his back in a motion of forced composure. He appeared to be leaning forward on his toes, but his posture was too rigid to be absent of nerves.

The soldiers were past the gate before Adaira realized she had overstayed, but she still hesitated to leave. The soldiers began to dismount, and Krem stepped forward, falling back on confidence instilled through training and combat. His shoulders squared, and he nodded to one of the soldiers as they moved off, leaving the three Tevinters alone. "Welcome to Skyhold," he said, and she heard a gasp.

Krem's mother recoiled, shock on her face as she stared at the man before her. Her hands balled, but she appeared rooted in place, from surprise or loyalty to her husband, Adaira couldn’t tell. Krem’s father watched him for a long moment-- they had been separated for so many years, before Krem had left for the army; he must have been difficult to recognize. "Father?" Krem asked, his tone cautious but hopeful, and a slow smile spread across the the man's face before he held out his arms. Krem's composure broke, and he rushed to his father, embracing him.

Adaira could hear the sounds of a tearful reunion, and she looked away. This was not something she should have been watching; it was a family matter. But even as she turned to depart, she caught his mother's eye, confused and perhaps a touch distraught.

* * *

Adaira had grown used to the feeling of being watched in the Circle. Many mages spoke of having a sixth sense because of the Templar eyes, but she had never been certain if they were being literal or if it was just a joke. But after the events at Adamant, she had felt keen eyes on her every time she passed through Skyhold’s main hall. She had never thought to look up until she was standing in the upper courtyard, the feeling once again creeping upon her and causing the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. She turned, trying to think of a reason for her to be imagining the feeling, but instead she found Vivienne watching her. The other woman did not flinch as Adaira stared back, trying not to feel a touch insulted. She couldn’t imagine a positive reason for Vivienne to be eyeing her, and yet, her gaze did not break until finally she beckoned and turned away.

Doing her best not to feel like a summoned dog, Adaira made her way inside and up the stairs to Vivienne’s haunt. The woman motioned, even as she seated herself in one of the high-backed chairs she had commandeered for herself. Adaira had never seen Vivienne uncomfortable, and even as silence built between them, there was nothing but practiced ease in her posture.

“Darling, I wished to speak to you about the events at Adamant Fortress. More specifically about the fear demon. I hope I can trust you to be discreet?” Vivienne peered at her, legs crossed and fingers steepled.

“Of course,” Adaira said, giving what she hoped was a confidence-inspiring nod.

Vivienne tilted her chin in an unreadable gesture. “The demon exposed all of our deepest fears. And yours was losing control.”

Adaira frowned openly. “Of course. You know what it is to be a mage. The Breach may be sealed, but there are a great deal many strenuous battles before us.” She was certain Vivienne had prepared a speech about strengthening willpower, or forging one’s mind into steel, that the Enchanter had found some fault with her fear.

Instead, Vivienne took a breath and looked away. “It is something we all fear, my dear. I fear for our fellow mages, the rebels your sister took in at your insistence. They are not all as strong as we are.”

Adaira hesitated, surprised by Vivienne’s words. “We?”

“We,” Vivienne repeated, her eyes turning back to Adaira. “Not all mages have the fortitude to become Knight-Enchanters, to be deemed strong enough to withstand the taunt of demons even without Templars to guide us, to hear their foul whispers in our ears in our darkest moments, and even some that are not so dark.”

Adaira leaned back in her chair, regretting the immediacy with which she had taken offense at Vivienne’s interest in her. There was relief and comfort in her words, more than Adaira had ever expected from her. “You hear them, too?”

Vivienne let out a low breath. “I believe we all do, my dear. They are drawn to magic, and the more powerful the spell, the greater their interest. What makes a mage is how one deals with their callings.”

"Adaira, there you are," Adanna said as she appeared from the stairs. "I was beginning to think you had fallen off a balcony somewhere. Come. The tailor needs your measurements." She beckoned.

“Thank you, Vivienne,” Adaira said as she stood, tilting her head. Vivienne gave her a practiced smile and motioned for her to follow her sister, who was only too happy to latch onto her wrist, tugging her back down the stairs and out through the kitchen.

"Can't the tailor use your measurements?" Adaira frowned at her sister even as she was pulled along.

"Maker, no. Your ass is much bigger than mine," Adanna jibed, but Adaira did little more than roll her eyes.

* * *

Slavery had taken its toll on the Inquisition’s newest tailor; he was a gaunt man, and appeared weathered by his work, whatever it had been. Still, his eyes were bright, and his fingers nimble as he measured. Krem sat, watching the man work like he was afraid he might disappear again. The sight warmed her. He looked to her as if reading her thoughts, and they both smiled. Adaira could see his father in his face.

Taking her measurements was a relatively quick process, and she thanked the man when he was done. Adanna then stepped forward, releasing Adaira from any social obligations. With a quick nod to Krem, she turned to leave. She was surprised when she heard him rise from his seat and follow her out the door.

“Adaira,” he said, catching her wrist with a careful hand. "I never got to thank you. For bringing my father to Skyhold. And my mother."

Adaira smiled, but shook her head. "I just passed the word along."

"Still. Thank you.” He let the words hang for a moment as if to impress upon her their sincerity. “We were also in the middle of a conversation when they arrived."

Adaira nodded, feeling the need to flee but unable to wrest herself from his gentle hold. "Yes."

"Did the kiss mean nothing to you?"

Adaira flushed, words failing her for a moment. "I-- assumed it was from excitement," she admitted, "not because you were expressing any exceptional feelings for me."

Krem wet his lips. "And if I was? When I asked you to accompany me on the walk, I was intending to ask-- I know that I'm not a noble, but I was hoping--” He halted, appearing to be at a loss for words. Adaira hesitated, taken aback, and he appeared to take that as a rejection. He pulled his hand away, expression dropping. "I apologize, this was inappropriate," he said.

"No, don't-- I--" she reached out, taking his hand again. She let out a dry laugh. "This is just... Not what I was expecting," she admitted, a small smile turning her lips. "Can I kiss you?"

He smiled at the question. "I'd like that," he said. She lifted herself up on her toes, holding onto his chin with her free hand as she kissed him, quick and easy.

"You know, I gave up my right to any family inheritance when I was taken to the Circle in Ostwick. I hope you weren't intending to make any claims family fortune," she said as she dropped back.

"Then I suppose I’ll have to start wooing your sister instead," he said, a grin spreading over his lips.

Adaira gave a mock gasp of shock before grinning. “Lucky for the both of us, you fall out of her range of interests.” She paused, lips puckering into a look of realization and she gave his shoulder a gentle shove. “Oh, but you are forgetting something. I might not have a claim to inheritance, but I am of noble blood,” she said, tilting her chin down in a teasing look of disapproval. “We have _customs_. Things will be _expected_ of you. Where are my gifts? Flowers, sweets, gowns made of the finest royal sea silk? You are a soldier, and yet you haven’t even asked for a lock of my hair so that you might keep me close while you are away, so that you might think of me in battle and be inspired by my beauty.”

Krem looked surprised for a moment before letting out a low laugh. “Forgive me, my lady, I am but a simple merchant’s son. But I swear to Andraste herself, I will pick all the flowers in Fereldan if I must.”

“And the lock of my hair?”

“I think taking all of you into battle is much more inspiring.”

“Hmm,” Adaira hummed, reaching into the sleeve of her robe and producing a handkerchief. “A lady’s favor, tradition,” she explained as she pressed it into his hand. “And we’ll have to do something about your armor as well...”

“My armor?” Krem sounded almost offended as he tucked the gift away.

“I can be courted by anyone in _Kirkwall_ armor. Ridiculous backwater city. If you don’t like the Ostwick sigil perhaps the Trevelyan crest,” she said, eyeing his chest as if to get a feel of how it might look.

“I heard they race _cheese_ in Ostwick.” Krem quirked a brow.

“That is a proud tradition, and I will not see it mocked,” Adaira sniffed, tilting her chin upward. “It’s also quite fun.”

* * *

Adaira would never admit to having paid off the requisitions officer, but there were too few places in Skyhold to be alone that weren’t someone’s private chambers. While there were certainly exciting activities that could be performed with a bed handy, this one required significantly more room.

“All right.” Krem frowned at her, suspicious. “You’ve got me here. What manner of trickery are you planning?” He leaned against a support beam, arms crossed over his chest.

“Nothing,” Adaira answered, trying her best to look innocent. He continued to frown at her and she let out a sigh. “No trickery,” she said, throwing out her arms. “But with the masquerade close at hand, Josephine is _insisting_ that Adanna and I practice dancing. Maker knows she needs the practice with her ridiculous soldier bravado.”

“And you?”

“I can’t have her looking better than me,” Adaira huffed, hands on her hips. “I was always the better dancer, and that won’t change now.”

“But why am I here? I don’t dance.”

“Of course you do,” she said, beckoning. “You _are_ going.”

Krem’s expression shifted to surprise. “I am?” he asked, taking the hand she held out to him.

“Adanna is bringing her entourage, Bull included. Why shouldn’t I at least get to bring you? Someone has to accompany me and protect my virtues. An Orlesian might try to accost me.”

Krem let out a laugh as he settled his other hand on her waist, her hand finding its place on his shoulder. “I would certainly like to see one try.”

“Josephine has forbidden me from using spells within the palace. Something about it being rude,” Adaira scoffed. “Do you remember how to do this?”

“Barely,” he admitted.

Adaira let out a low laugh. “Lucky for you you will be able to respectfully decline any offers to dance. I will be expected to twirl about, should anyone important enough ask. Hopefully they will be more interested in Adanna.” 

“I won’t be obligated to dance, but you’re making me practice?”

“You’ll have to dance if _I_ ask you to.” She quirked a brow at him. “But if you really protest, I could go ask that stablehand,” she teased, moving to pull away.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he laughed, pulling her closer.

“Of course not,” she smiled at him, lifting up for a kiss. “But this is serious, and I have a short time to learn the dance. So, one...” She began the count, pulling on him lightly to lead him through the steps.


	11. Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts

There were few sights Adaira found more amusing than the sight of Cullen surrounded by suitors, fawning women and at least one exceptionally interested gentleman. He should have fled when he had been given the chance, but duty had anchored him to the ballroom, and now he was trapped. Adaira gave him a nod as she passed, noting the bewildered discomfort in his expression. Everyone in the Inquisition uniform was being gawked at, and she couldn’t deny the irritation she felt flare up as Krem was eyed and spoken about behind spread fans and overlarge ruffles. She wasn’t sure which thought bothered her more-- that they might be disapproving or that they might be planning to ambush him, too.

The air in the garden was blessedly cool after the imposing atmosphere of the dance hall. Adaira cursed whoever had decided on the official Inquisition uniform. It had been Josephine, she was sure. The woman looked dashing in it, they all did, but the collars were high, and the fabric thick. Only practice kept her from fussing, kept the smile on her lips and her hands clasped delicately at her front. Out of the Ambassador’s eyesight, her smile evened out and her hands dropped to hang at her sides.

“I should have known better than to let you talk me into coming. I don't exactly fit in here. And I don’t know how you nobles do this,” Krem grumbled, scowling as she shooed his fingers away from his collar. He caught one of her hands and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Fitting in takes a lot of training,” she answered. "And so do the clothes. You haven’t been a mercenary your whole life-- did you never attend formal gatherings in Tevinter?"

“Not with collars like this.” Krem nodded as Iron Bull wandered into the garden, expression dark, but hands clutching food. “Chief.”

“Krem,” he greeted, frowning. “I don’t like this. These nobles keep messing with me, and they think that I don’t know.”

“Orlesians aren’t known for their... accepting nature,” Adaira agreed. “They don’t like elves, mages, Fereldans, Qunari,” she waved her free hand dismissively. “What do you think of all of this?”

“It’s a lot of preening and posturing,” Bull said. “I can’t wait for this to be over." He looked to the food in his hands. "Créme puff?" He grinned, holding up the small cakes. Krem groaned, not even attempting to hide the roll of his eyes. “Still,” he continued, shoving one of the cakes into his mouth. “It’s not all bad, nice sights, good food, good wine.” Adaira followed his eyes to find Dorian. “Found anything that needs killing yet?”

“That’s my sister’s job, unfortunately,” she said, not completely surprised to find Adanna striding toward them, Cassandra close on heel and looking just as off-put as everyone else. Adanna plucked the identifying brooch from her sash as soon as she was close enough, the motion no more than an easy flick of her wrist. "You're going to have to pretend to be me," she said in a hushed tone. "I have to search the palace for evidence of betrayal." She took Adaira’s hand, transferring the brooch.

Adaira's brows lifted. "I think you just want to escape all the nobles," she said. "And get the chance to go sneaking around the palace."

Adanna leaned closer to whisper, and Adaira pinned the brooch to her own sash. “Lady Morrigan has given me a key to the servant’s quarters, but the Orlesian nobility cannot notice my absence. They will be more forgiving of yours. They will not be so forgiving to find you snooping," she reasoned. "So square your shoulders, and remember to answer to Inquisitor." She patted Adaira's arm and grinned as she leaned away. “Krem, you come with me. Cassandra, you stay with Adaira.”

Cassandra frowned and moved to protest, but reconsidered and gave a curt nod. Adaira couldn’t say that she disagreed with the Seeker’s sentiments, but Krem gave her no more than a reassuring squeeze of her hand before moving off with Adanna.

Stepping back into the ballroom, Adaira was glad for Josephine’s persistence in making sure everyone’s dancing was on par. Orlesian nobles were quite particular about their steps and twirls, and Adaira couldn't fail the Inquisition by dancing poorly. Bull cleared his throat to catch her attention and nodded. As if by fate, the Empress' younger cousin was making her way toward her. Adaira forced a smile as the other woman grew close.

“Inquisitor Trevelyan? We met briefly. I am Grand Duchess Florianne de Chalons. Welcome to my party." The Duchess curtsied lightly, and Adaira nodded in return.

“Can I help you with something, Your Grace?” Adaira’s fingers curled, anxiety rising, but masked by practiced smile.

“Indeed you can.” The blonde woman smiled, and Adaira’s hair nearly stood on end.

The dance itself was carefully choreographed, for which Adaira was increasingly thankful as it progressed. Florianne was digging for something, but she wasn’t the only one familiar with the game. Adanna might have had more practice with politicians, but Adaira had become adept at half-truths and veiled statements meant for people much more intimidating than Florianne could ever hope to be, and knew better than to take the other woman at her word.

Leaving the central floor, Adaira took a deep breath, and cast a dark glance in Bull’s direction. She wasn’t sure if he was amused or impressed, but didn’t have time to mull over it before Josephine approached, clearly enthusiastic. “You’ll be the talk of the court for months! We should take you dancing more often!”

“I had a good teacher,” Adaira said.

“Were you dancing with Grand Duchess Florianne?” Leliana approached, as did Cullen, who quickly began asking of the events in the servants’ quarters. Rumor traveled quickly, it would appear.

Adaira shook her head, tapping her ear. Cullen frowned for a moment before realization dawned on his face. “I see,” he said. “A good plan. I wish she would have told us.”

“Ever rash, that mage sister of mine,” Adaira gave a shrug.

“Did you learn anything from Florianne?”

“She tried to convince me that Gaspard is the traitor, but I’m not sure she can be trusted, either,” Adaira admitted, voice low.

“Florianne and her brother are thick as thieves, but she would give him up in an instant to save herself,” Leliana said, looking to Florianne from across the hall.

The sound of the hall’s doors opening drew Adaira’s attention, and she found Adanna coming back through, Krem following behind. Cullen nodded to her as she joined their small, impromptu meeting. “The attack will happen tonight,” he confirmed.

“Warning Celene is pointless. She needs these talks to succeed, and to flee would be to admit defeat.”

“Then perhaps we should let her die,” Leliana offered.

Adaira was taken aback, but her thoughts were interrupted by Adanna making a sharp motion. “I won’t stand by and let her die,” she hissed.

“Listen to me carefully, Inquisitor,” Leliana said. “What Corypheus wants is chaos. Even with Celene alive, that could still happen. To foil his plans, the Empire must remain strong. This evening, someone must emerge victorious.”

“It doesn’t have to be Celene,” Cullen agreed, “She’s right.”

Adanna’s eyes narrowed. “And you think the murder of the Empress in her own palace won’t sow chaos? If she can be reached, so can every other noble. Gaspard murdering his cousin in her own palace will cause panic.”

“Sometimes the best plan is not the easiest one,” Leliana said.

“It is your decision, Inquisitor,” Josephine conceded.

“Even inaction is a decision,” Leliana warned before turning her attention toward Adaira. “What did Duchess Florianne tell you?”

Everyone’s eyes turned to Adaira. “She said Gaspard’s mercenary captain is in the Royal Wing, and that he knows about the assassination plot. It could be a trap,” she looked to Adanna.

“Or a lead. Either way, we should search the private quarters in that area for clues,” Josephine nodded in agreement.

“If it is, Florianne will be expecting you to be away,” Adaira frowned. “If I stay as you, Florianne will know that something is awry.”

“Right." Adanna nodded toward Cassandra, and swept across Adaira’s front, snatching the brooch from her with ease and hopefully confusing anyone who was watching them. ”Get me access,” Adanna said, “And move your soldiers into position.”

* * *

Adaira couldn’t help but feel like Adanna’s second absence stretched on indefinitely. Perhaps it was the boring, but vitriolic nature of the conversations, the repeated, predictable dances. It was likely more due to the growing feeling that her sister was in over her head. Florianne’s warning had been too convenient, especially paired with a quiet departure, and the Duchess’ smirk as she returned to the ballroom set Adaira’s teeth on edge. There seemed to be something innately sinister about the way she meandered toward her cousin, brother by her side, that Adaira couldn’t quite place. She moved to intercept, stall for time, but the nobles were too packed for her to gain much ground before the doors opened again, revealing Adanna and Cassandra, looking wearied and infuriated.

The nobles, unwilling to part before Adaira, nearly scattered as Adanna moved through them, her strides carrying her quickly through the sea of overblown dresses. Cullen and Leliana moved forward, but Adanna held up a hand and looked to her sister. “I’m going to have word with the Grand Duchess,” she said, her voice barely more than a growl. “I trust that if she makes a move, you will throw court approval to the wind?”

“I would be happy to,” Adaira nodded, almost excited at the thought.

“Inquisitor, there is hardly any time--!” Cullen was interrupted by another raised hand, silenced by the hardness in Adanna’s eyes as she moved away. There was a ruckus from the court as she strode across the dancefloor toward the cluster formed by Florianne, Gaspard, and Briala.

"Duchess Florianne," the venom in Adanna's voice was unmistakable. "I do hope you saved me one last dance." All confidence in Florianne’s body was lost as Adanna strode up the steps, the Duchess taking subtle steps away, arms limp at her sides as a plied smile faltered on her lips. Adanna circled like a predator as she spoke, Celene watching from above. In her panic, the Duchess turned to her brother, but he turned away, followed shortly by Briala as guards approached down the steps.

Her panic breaking into a frenzy, Celene reached into her sleeve, pulling out a blade, snarl twisting her features, but Adaira's lightning was quicker, and the Duchess found herself tumbling to the floor, free from all grace. It was a weak charge, meant more to startle and disorient as opposed to do any real damage, but it was flashy nonetheless. A collective gasp was let out, and the nobles that had previously resisted parting stepped away from Adaira. She couldn’t help but feel a touch satisfied. Adanna stooped down, lifting the dagger for the Orlesians to see, a pointed expression on her face as the guards lifted Florianne from the floor.

“Impeccable aim, my lady,” Krem commented as Adanna and Celene turned from the hall to speak privately, followed by Briala and Gaspard.

“It’s about time all my efforts with the Chargers paid off,” she quirked a grin at him as he came to stand next to her. “Now we just have to wait for them to come back and announce that they have come to terms. I’m sure Adanna has found something in all of her efforts.”

"I hear I missed watching you dance. That you dipped the Duchess."

"Oh, I did. The night is still young though, if you'd like your own turn," she teased, nudging him with her hip.

“And if I would?” He offered her a hand and a smile, and Adaira felt the color rise to her cheeks even as she smiled back.

“You at least have to wait for their ‘talks’ to finish,” she said, taking his hand. “Are you sure you know all the steps?”

“If I don’t, that means my teacher wasn’t very good,” he teased.


	12. Capturing Suledin Keep

Emprise du Lion was a hatefully cold region of Orlais. Adaira couldn’t believe she had allowed Adanna to convince her to bring the Chargers south while the Inquisitor herself had taken to the warmer desert climes. The village of Sahrnia itself was in a tragic state. No buildings seemed to be left entirely standing, and snow sat piled in every available corner and crevice. People had been disappearing, taken by the Red Templars scattered throughout the region, and put to work in the mines. Why anyone had stayed in the village was beyond Adaira.

With some backup from the Chargers, Inquisition forces had cleared most of the Templar presence, but one stronghold remained: Suledin Keep. Standing at the edge of camp, Adaira stared at the looming wall a few hundred yards off, lit by the glow of red lyrium, jutting out of the snow like bloody claws. Spending time in the snow-covered region had revealed one other thing as well: the crystals was warm. The snow around each jagged piece melted for several inches around it. It set her teeth on edge to the point of startling as a hand touched her shoulder.

She jerked to see who it was, and Krem pulled his hand away, surprised. She gave him a weak smile even as she forced her fingers to uncurl. “Are you ready?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

“No,” she said. “I’m sure a messenger of some sort has warned whatever forces are inside that we were coming. They must have fortified themselves, and yet--”

“There’s nothing,” he agreed. “Michel is waiting for us,” he said with a motion. The ex-Chevalier could be seen some distance off, staring at the keep, just as she had been.

Adiara looked over her shoulder to the camp and nodded. “Let’s go. The longer we wait, the more time they have to prepare.”

Krem nodded and turned back toward the camp. “Chargers,” he called out, voice carrying over the quiet snow. “Form up.”

“Bad news, my lady,” Michel said as she approached. Turning to face her fully, he took in a heavy breath. “Your efforts to drive off the Red Templars have not gone unnoticed. Imshael knows we’re here. He’s sent Red Templars after me, and a pack of shades descends now on Sahrnia. They will have trouble moving without alerting the forces you have posted, but the people themselves are defenseless. I must return now without delay. It’s up to you to destroy Imshael.”

Adaira nodded. He had told her of Imshael when the Chargers had first arrived at Sahrnia. A demon he had taken a personal interest in, whose disposal now fell to the Chargers. “Take some of the Chargers,” she said, looking to Krem, who turned and motioned to a few men. “They will help you defend the townspeople.”

Michel nodded. “Thank you. Good luck, my lady.” He turned, crunching his way back through the snow with rushed stepped, followed shortly by the men Krem had picked.

Adaira took a breath and looked back to the keep. “Let’s get this done. I’m tired of standing in snow.”

* * *

The number of empty prisoner wagons within the keep was unnerving. The Chargers found no civilians, but had carved a meager trail of Templar bodies as they advanced into the keep. There seemed too few for the number of tents present, many of which stood empty, causing Adaira’s nerves to increase as they went along.

The shock came when they found the cells. The first contained the corpse of a giant, preserved by the freezing temperatures. It’s body was ruptured across its back with grotesque red crystals, and notes that had been left nearby confirmed that the Templars were corrupting the creatures, that they were interested in breeding them. Adaira folded the notes and tucked them into the pouch at her waist as she looked into the second cell. What appeared to be a meal, half-eaten, still sat inside.

“There must be a second,” she said, and Krem nodded. “I wonder if the lyrium allowed the giants to be compelled as the Templars are, or if it just makes them angrier.”

“I don’t want to find out,” Krem admitted. Adaira tilted her head to indicate that they should proceed. As she turned, the ground trembled beneath their feet. She looked back to Krem.

“You’ve killed giants before, right?”

Krem let out a dry laugh. “One or two.”

Adaira shrugged, pushing away the fear that chilled her spine as she approached the wall that separated them from the next bend in the path. She peeked around and took in a sharp breath. The creature’s body was torn by crystals just as the other’s had been, and it did not appear to have been affected negatively by the lyrium yet. It was a gruesome sight, a long gash, raw but not bleeding, splitting from head to lower back, shoulders peppered with smaller crystals. It was a wonder the creature was still alive. She returned to the Chargers and gave a nod. “Lyrium infected giant.”

“How are we going to do this one?” Skinner asked, frowning. There was little room for tactical maneuvering, and giant-slaying supplies had not been on their packing list.

“I don’t suppose you have any giant-poison on your belt, do you?” Krem shrugged. “We don’t have time for Rocky to set up a trap, either. Head-on assault appears to be the only option we have.”

“Why is that always the only option?” Dalish protested.

“At least it isn’t completely covered in crystals,” Adaira offered. At the thought of the Templar behemoths, her mind turned back to the events at Haven. “Skinner,” she said, and the elf turned to her, brow raised. “Do you think you can cut its hamstrings?”

Her lips curled into a devilish grin and she nodded. “I don’t see why not.”

* * *

When they finally found Imshael, he was not what Adaira was expecting. He stood, calm and otherwise unassuming, despite the devious looking contraption behind him. She tried not to focus on it and what it might be used for, but given the red lyrium, she could make a guess. He beckoned for her to approach, despite the twisted Templars that wandered to either side of him.

Krem stepped closer to Adaira, watching the creature. “You’ve got a bit more experience with this kind of thing, how do you want to handle it?”

“Let me find out what kind of demon it is, and then we can smash it to bits,” she said before stepping forward.

“Ah, so the hero arrives,” the demon said as she moved down the steps toward him. “But is it hero? Or is it murderer? It is so hard to tell.”

She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Somehow, she didn’t feel in the mood to argue with a demon. “You’re the demon known as Imshael?”

The word seemed to irk him, as a sneer twisted over his face. He cleared his throat and leveled a severe look at her. “Choice spirit.”

A desire demon; that made him simple enough to deal with. She summoned her sword, and Imshael threw up his hands. “Wait, wait!” She raised her brows and almost let out a small laugh. “Those are your friends?” He motioned over her shoulder and she gave a disinterested nod. “They’re very violent. It looks worrying.”

“Didn’t you just ask if I was a murderer?”

His expression was unamused before he continued to speak. “True to my name, I will show you that you have a choice. It doesn’t have to always end in blood.”

The demon before her was certainly interesting. At least it wasn’t in the fade, whispering to her. If he was offering her something, there would be a price, likely more than letting him live, and she was interested in knowing it. “All right, Imshael.” She spread her hands. “What choice do you offer?”

“Adaira,” Krem’s tone was warning, but she glanced over her shoulder, holding up a hand. He let out a low sound of disapproval, but waited.

“Simple,” Imshael said, eyeing Krem even as Adaira turned back to him. “We don’t fight, and I grant you power.”

This time, Adaira did laugh. “What power could you hope to offer me?”

“Or shower you with riches. Or maybe virgins. Your pick. Then we all live happily ever after. Well, not all of us, but who’s counting?”

“Take the virgins!” Skinner shouted.

“I let you live, and you kill Michel, that’s your plan? Unfortunately for you, demon, I think he will be of more use to the Inquisition.”

“Oh, for the--! Choice! Spirit!” the demon spat, waving his arm to dispel the enchantment surrounding him. His form was revealed, and Adaira stumbled back. She had thought he was a simple desire demon, but he was something much more. “If you won’t be smart, be afraid!”

“Maker,” she hissed under her breath, casting a barrier as the Chargers rushed forward. The Templars that had previously been inattentive turned, screaming as they were compelled to attack. Charred corpses shambled forward, and she heard someone let out a disgusted shout.

Adaira slashed at the corpses as they came near, working her way closer to the demon. The demon was floating, twisting and jabbing with its multiple legs as it hissed. She raised a hand, concentrating as Grim distracted the demon. It was time for something new. She let out a grunt of effort and a cloudy bubble formed, trapping the demon inside in a vortex of slowed time. “Grim!” It was not a spell she could hold for long, and she didn’t yet trust herself with moving while expending so much energy.

The man let out a grunt and pulled back for a great swing, slashing through Imshael’s lower abdomen. With the disruption caused by Grim’s force, Adaira’s spell was broken, and the demon screamed, a sound like claws on metal, causing the Chargers to flinch. He lifted himself up, despite the grievous wound, snarling down at them. “Where’s Michel?” He demanded. “Afraid of another disastrous blunder?” His form blurred, flickering in and out of view for several moments before he dropped again, his body made of raging magma. He howled again, blackened arms swinging out wildly. “Enough of this!”

Adaira ground her teeth. Of course it would turn into a rage demon. She wished for a moment that they had brought another mage. She hated frost spells, but there was little that could be done. He would melt standard weapons in his current form without being made into something more solid. Her sword faded as she blew out a cone of frozen air from her palm. Imshael bellowed and lunged for her, but his body was slowed. She moved back, keeping enough distance that his arms couldn’t reach her as the Chargers cleared out the smaller monstrosities it had summoned as well as the remaining Templars.

She could feel herself tightening, her magic reserves thinning like a bowstring pulled too taut. Krem’s hammer smashed into the Imshael’s hardened back, sending chunks of solidified rock. Adaira took the distraction to down a lyrium potion, refreshing and cool down her throat before she renewed her assault. “Dalish!”

The elf’s projectiles exploded against Imshael’s solidified form, sending more chunk of his body scattering. The demon let out a roar, blackened arms raising, fists clenching, and he grew in size. Adaira stepped back, increasing the force of her magic with a grimace. “You will not destroy me!” The demon shouted, continuing to swell. Her magic was stronger at a closer range, but his arms lengthened as he grew taller.

Adaira’s spell died, her mana reserves exhausted, and she stumbled back as Imshael shook himself free of the cooled parts of his body. “I am not the enemy!” Imshael growled, “All these people chose to be here!” He threw an arm out, lengthened considerably since he had changed form. He swiped again, catching Adaira and knocking her back into a pile of rubble.

Thankful for her armor, she scrambled back to her feet. Looking up, she caught sight of Krem watching her, distracted from Imshael. The demon noticed, too. He let out a triumphant bellow, and his body began to change again, growing further in height and girth. Adaira waved off Krem's concerns. "Focus on Imshael," she called. Realizing his error, Krem nodded and turned back to the demon, but was forced to take a step back.

The demon was too big for her time-warping magic, and she doubted her ability to cast the spell again regardless. Finally standing straight again, she heard Imshael laugh, a deep, disturbing sound. His dark, clawed arm reaches up. "Lightning!" Adaira shouted her warning even as the rope of energy crashed down around them.

"Mages," Imshael spat. "Always thinking they know everything." He turned toward her, beady eyes boring into her. "Where is your sword now? Not low on energy, are you?"

Adaira ground her teeth but forced her expression to shift to passive, unworried. "What do I need my sword for? We've already forced you to change your form twice now. You're nearly dead."

Imshael snarled and lunged toward her, reaching out with a jagged arm. He stopped when a heavy crunch sounded and let out a howl as he fell to one knee. Krem stood by the other, which was now broken-- twisted and bloody-- breathing heavy and waving for Adaira to move further from the demon. Skinner saw her chance and leapt for Imshael’s head, grabbing on to the rigid spikes and searching for a weakness in his armor. Imshael bellowed again and snatched the elf away from him before throwing her to the side and into Grim. Before Krem could move away, Imshael's other hand grabbed him, lifting him up off the ground.

“You’re just overreacting!” Imshael chided as he brought Krem closer to his face. Krem let out a scream as the demon squeezed, and Imshael sneered at him before throwing him off to the side, away from Grim and Skinner.

Adaira scrambled to cast a barrier around him with what little of her mana had returned. It would prevent further injury from external forces, but not soften the blow of his landing. One of Imshael’s hands, now clenched in a fist, came down for her, and Adiara threw herself to the side. She needed a belt with more potion storage. “I am only getting started. I will not allow you to ruin these plans!” Imshael swung a chain of lightning again as he shouted.

Spotting a discarded sword, Adaira ran for it, even as the demon swung again, missing her by inches. She snatched the blade off the ground, startled by its sudden weight. She had only rarely practiced with metal swords, and forgotten their mass. Imshael paused as he drew on his magic again, tired of missing her with physical blows. She took the momentary pause to rush forward, heaving the blade up and into Imshael's abdomen. She had assumed the armor would be thinner, and her gambit paid off as he howled. Grabbing hold of the crossguard, she twisted, grunting with the effort. Stumbling back and out of reach as Imshael bent further down, she heard a feral sound from Skinner as the elf renewed her assault, daggers digging deep into the demon's eyes. Blinded as he was, Imahael couldn't see Grim approaching, large sword poised. With a final grunt, he drove it home, deep into the demon's skull.

As the ground shook from Imshael's fall, Adaira ran for Krem, who lay awkwardly where he had fallen. "Potions," she called as she rolled him onto his back. He was breathing, but it was ragged and uneven. Dalish came first, unstoppering an orange vial, one of Stitches’ concoctions.

"Hold his head," Dalish instructed as she parted Krem's lips.

Adaira positioned herself behind Krem, his head in her lap as Dalish poured the potion into his mouth in small, delicate doses. Skinner brought a second red vial, likely Inquisition made, and Adaira cursed herself again for not knowing any healing magic.

"We need Stitches," Dalish said, taking the potion from Skinner. "Go find him." Skinner nodded and turned, running back through the keep.

* * *

The gates of Skyhold were never a more welcome sight than with Krem on a cart. He had regained consciousness several times since beginning the journey back from Sahrnia, but each time Stitches had given him another drink to make him sleep after giving him a small meal. He had to be as still as possible, and his body would heal better while he slept, the healer reasoned. Krem had resisted the most recent time, but there was little arguing with Stitches.

Dismounting as soon as they were through the gates, she strode over to the soldiers who were unloading him. "Take him to my chambers," Adaira instructed.

"Should he not be in the infirmary with the others, my lady?" The soldier asked, hesitating.

"No. Stitches will be attending him." It was favoritism, clearly, and a number of Inqusition members might raise their brows at her, but she didn't care. "He can have my bed." The men hesitated again and she made a sharp motion with her hand. "Take him." They seemed surprised by her sharpness, and rushed to finally do as instructed.

"Sister," Adanna called out, approaching in her own rush. "Impeccable timing. We ride for the Arbor Wilds. It's good you're already packed. We have a fresh horse saddled for you," she motioned to where horses and men alike were gathering.

"No, I can't go, Krem--"

"Will be here when we return," Adaira said, her tone firm. "We need you to come as well."

Adaira hesitated before finally giving a nod. "Fine," she said. "Five minutes."

"Two."

Adaira pressed her lips into a thin line, but Adanna stared back, unimpressed. "Fine." She turned and jogged after the men carrying Krem. "Wait," she called, and they stopped, eyeing her. She glared in return, slipping off one of his gauntlets which had been left on to keep him warm. She undid the chain from her neck and dropped the ring it carried into her palm before slipping it on his finger. "It's a good thing you're a tailor's son," she mumbled to herself as she tucked his hand under his other. "Do not remove his armor," she looked up at the men. They appeared surprised again. "I don't know what kind of bandages Stitches has put in place, and the pressure might be important." They seemed to accept this explanation, or they just didn't care, and they nodded.

Adaira looked down to Krem one last time, and let out a frustrated sigh before turning away. She couldn't refrain from casting her sister a glare as she climbed into the saddle of her waiting horse.


	13. What Pride had Wrought

Staring down at the battle, it was hard to believe the place had once been a peaceful forest. Soldiers of both sides screamed, in pain or rage or fear, and bled, lay dying or dead. Adanna was standing at the edge of the cliff, the rest of the nobility some distance off. She was waiting for some signal with balled fists. She hated watching others die for her. Adaira had separated herself further, and refused to acknowledge the massive shadow looming over her.

"He's pulled through rough stuff before. Stitches'll have him ready to go in no time. Pouting doesn't do anyone any good. Especially not in a war zone," Bull said, his low voice almost a warning.

Adaira bristled and turned to him, arms folded over her chest. "I should be there. It was my fault."

"Your fault?" It was obvious Bull didn't believe her.

"If I had just-- if I wasn't there, maybe--"

"Maybe he would have just died. Maybe the world would have stopped turning. Maybe that demon would have killed everyone. You can't change what happened. But your moping is going to get you killed when we go down there, and I don't want your sister falling to bits. That spells death for a whole lot more people, Inquisition people. Keep your barrier spells going, and you’ll get back to Skyhold to see him again."

Adaira opened her mouth to protest, but he lifted his chin, and she closed it again, folding her arms over her chest as she turned away.

* * *

The jump through the mirror was disorienting, to say the least. The Arbor Wilds had been cool, but the air of the Frostbacks was frigid, despite the cramped room the group suddenly found themselves in, never mind the terror that Corypheus had inspired just moments before in his rush to destroy them.

“Did you know?” Adanna asked as she straightened, eyes on Solas. He always claimed to have unfathomable knowledge of the ancient elves, of things he had seen in the fade. To ignore such a large temple, such an important artifact seemed out of place for him.

He frowned and shook his head. “No, I was unaware of this well and its guardians.” Adaira was unconvinced, and she could have sworn she saw Morrigan’s eyes narrow at his words.

“And yet you let a human apostate take the knowledge for herself,” Adaira said as she was shoved aside by Bull, pushing his way to a more open spot in the room.

“I have no need of ancient knowledge at the price of my own free will. I do not desire to be bound by any ancient god, dead or alive,” he reasoned.

“I’m going to go get a drink.” Bull finished pushing through the collected mages and out of the small storage room.

Adanna let out a low breath, but waved her hand at Solas, who nodded, accepting his dismissal and followed the qunari out. She turned then, to Morrigan. “Well?”

“It will take time,” she said, huffing. “You cannot expect me to absorb such a vast collection of knowledge and be able to sift through it in moments.”

“Fine, send for me when you have something we can use.” Adanna moved past Morrigan, Adaira close behind her.

* * *

Adaira shoved aside her door with an unceremonious grunt, but stopped when her eyes fell on Krem, asleep. Scraps of fabric covered his lap, and whatever he had been working on lay in his hand, as if he’d fallen asleep in the middle his project. It brought a smile to her lips, and she felt like she could breathe for the first time since she had left. She placed her helmet on her desk, careful to be as quiet as possible. Piece by piece, she worked off her armor, glad that she wasn’t muscle-bound and unable to reach all of the important buckles. She had reached her gambeson before she heard a soft noise and turned to find Krem watching her, a small smile on his face.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he said, pushing himself up further to lean against the pillows more comfortably.

Unable to contain a grin, She stepped over to the bed, cupping his face as she pressed a desperate kiss to his lips. Seating next to him on the bed, she felt her anxieties dissolve as her thumbs ran over his cheekbones. “I was worried,” she said, voice soft.

“I know.” He rested a hand on her wrist, thumb rubbing the back of her hand. “But you’re here now. Much sooner than I expected you. Not that I’m unhappy. Would have liked to have been able to welcome you back, though.”

“We returned through an eluvian-- a magic doorway.” She waved her hand with a heavy sigh, hands falling to her lap. "It's not important. How are you feeling?”

“Better, now that I’ve woken up to you undressing.” He quirked a grin at her, and she laughed, a low, comfortable sound. “But speaking of magic, do you know anything about this?” He held up the hand, wiggling his fingers to emphasize the ring she had placed on his finger.

“Yes,” she admitted. “I didn’t want you think I left you without a second thought. Or something else ridiculous, I suppose. It’s the ring they gave me after my Harrowing.” She pulled his hand into her lap, running a thumb over the smooth silver. It felt almost silly after the fact. “It’s a good thing you’re a tailor’s son,” she repeated herself now that he was awake. “If your fingers were any bigger, it wouldn’t have fit.”

“Are you saying I have fat hands?”

“No.” She leaned in to kiss him again. “I’m saying your hands are perfect.”

“Well, they are my hands,” he said through the kisses.

“How long until Stitches will let you out of bed?”

“Trying to get rid of me already?” Krem teased with a grin. “I hadn’t thought to ask, expecting you to be away for at least a week more. He has been feeding me this awful paste. Good for the bones, he says.” He paused, making a face. "So, soon, I would expect."

"Hmm, good. Being in my sister's personal guard is exhausting," she admitted, leaning to rest her forehead against his, eyes closing.

"You need sleep."

"Yes, but if Morrigan learns of something that will aid us--"

"Your sister can handle it. You aren't the Inquisitor."

"My sister isn't a mage."

"Then she can send for you." She let out a relenting sigh as Krem pressed his lips to hers again.

Feeling a tug, Adaira looked down to see his fingers working at the ties at the front of her gambeson. With a few deft motions, the laces were loosened, and he tugged the thick garment over her head, revealing an undershirt that was still stuck to her skin with sweat. "Hm, maybe I should wash," she mused, pulling the fabric away from her body.

“As much as I’d love to help, I’m stuck for the moment,” he said, leaning back with a grin on his face.

“Maybe once you’ve healed.” She leaned toward him for one last kiss before standing.


	14. Inflating Inquisition Numbers

The sky over the Frostbacks was gray with the thin morning sunshine. Adanna leaned on the ramparts, staring down into the valley below. It was still nearly empty, the main body of the Inquisition’s forces still on the march back from the Arbor Wilds. “We’re vulnerable,” she said.

Adaira let out a low breath. They always seemed to be vulnerable. Whether it was running into the heart of an ancient temple without reinforcement and being chased by a self-resurrecting magister, or taken by surprise by a shape-shifting demon with even fewer forces. Arms crossed, she tapped her fingers on her upper arms. “And what are we to do about it? We can’t exactly take the Eluvian back and have the whole army tromp through the temple.”

“Mages?” Adanna glanced at her.

“Mages?” Adaira repeated, brows raised.

“Sure, why not. Cast a few illusion spells, make it appear as though most of the army is back or...” She trailed off as she straightened. “Fiona is still here, isn’t she? We should go speak with her.”

“Most of the mages went into the Wilds, too. The only ones left are too inexperienced to be able to hold up a spell like that. They could end up killing the few that we’ve been able to bring back.” Adaira shook her head. She thought for a moment. “The Chargers?” They had remained behind during the march to the Arbor Wilds in order to maintain a military presence at Skyhold and allow their Lieutenant rest.

“They don’t have any mages.”

“They have-- me. And I’m sure they could come up with something to help us.”

Adanna looked to her sister, her brows raised this time. “You’re going to hold up the illusion spell by yourself? You just want to go see Krem. Don't you get enough of him with him living in your chambers?"

Adaira hesitated, affronted, but unable to deny the accusation and unwilling to explain Krem's need for privacy. She rolled her lips and avoided looking directly at her twin. “He may well have some effective ideas. He’s had quite a few in the past, and the Chargers have always proven successful.”

Adanna didn’t manage to hide the easy roll of her eyes as she straightened. “Go see if he has any ideas, then, I’m going to--”

“Go find Cassandra?”

It was Adanna’s turn to hesitate, and she narrowed her eyes, but found herself unable to come up with a retort. With nothing but a short, sharp huff, Adaira dismissed herself.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Adaira gasped as she entered her chambers to find Krem standing unsteadily and attempting to dress himself.

"Stitches said my bones should be strong enough for me to stand again.” He looked up from his trousers where his fingers were tying weak knots. "And as much as I love spending time with you, I'm tired of just laying around."

"So you're going to overextend yourself when no one's around to help if you collapse? What if you had fallen?" She didn't manage to keep the cross note out of her voice, and he frowned.

"I'm a soldier," he reminded her. "We don't do well doing nothing. I at least want to get out of this room. Give me that? The Chargers aren’t comfortable cramming themselves in here."

Adaira let out a defeated huff, not wanting to argue. Stretching would be good for him. "Fine, but sit." She motioned to the bed. She didn't want him losing his balance while lifting a gambeson and injuring himself further. She brought him the heavy fabric, and he took it from her, holding it on his lap for a moment, staring. "No one can tell," she reassured him softly.

Krem glanced up at her and gave a small nod before putting an arm through. Adaira helped move the main body of the garment around his back and helping him to lift his arm into the other sleeve. She waited for him to tie the front before held her hands out, and he took them, using her to balance himself as he stood. “Are you ready?” She asked. He nodded, and she tucked herself under his arm for support.

The walk was slow, laborious, but they eventually made it out into the courtyard. Krem took a dramatic breath in and tilted his head up to look at the sky, but his expression took on a disappointed note. “The sky could have at least been blue today,” he grumbled as she turned him towards the tavern.

“Well, if you had just let me know ahead of time, I could have taken care of that for you,” Adaira teased.

Krem let out a low, dry laugh and shook his head. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, unlucky for you, my sister sent me with urgent business.”

“Urgent business from your sister to me? Now I feel important. A task just for me from the Inquisitor herself!”

Adaira let out a snort. “Who would have thought? With most of our forces still in the Kocari Wilds, she’s looking to find a way to convince Corypheus’ forces that we’re still at full strength. She suggested mages, but most of them are still in the Wilds as well. I suggested asking you for an idea, given the versatile nature of your past jobs.”

Krem paused as he thought. “If we have spare Inquisition uniforms available, I could take the Chargers out on a patrol; we could light extra campfires, tie rattles to our boots.” He thought for a moment before looking at her, a pensive expression on his face. “Do you know any illusion spells that might help?”

Adaira frowned and gave a slight shake of her head. ”No, but I’m sure I could learn something that would help. Noise amplification, at least. I could at least help light the fires.”

Krem let out a snort. “Leliana’s agents may be able to help as well, search for enemy scouts and encampments for us to eliminate.”

Adaira hesitated at this, pausing their stroll and looking at Krem skeptically. “If you’re barely able to walk, are you going to be able to fight?”

Krem took in a breath, looking at the ground in front of them for a moment. “I won’t be able to use my maul, according to Stitches, but a sword should be easy enough, given the time it will take for us to reach the valley and then the Hinterlands, or wherever Leliana wants us to patrol,” he admitted. “And with help from your barriers, I shouldn’t come out of it worse for wear, if we find any Venatori.”

Adaira frowned, but gave a nod. Her main concern wasn’t Venatori. They went down as easily as any other mage, and the Chargers had gone against them often enough. Leilana’s agents would also be a great help in keeping them from making too much trouble. Her fear was finding another unexpected demon. Anything suspicious would have to be investigated, and anything suspicious could end with another severe injury. Or worse. “C’mon, the other Chargers will want to see you.” She angled them towards the tavern,

She had hoped that the Chargers’ excitement of seeing their lieutenant on his feet again would distract her, but as the greeting shouts reached her ears, she only found herself more anxious. The company would be good for him, she told herself, and seeing him would be good for the rest of the Chargers, too.

It wasn’t long before she felt Bull come up behind her, a heavy presence over her shoulder. “I told you he would be fine,” he said, heavy voice strangely grating.

“You did,” Adaira admitted. “And now that he’s walking, he’s set on marching through Ferelden as soon as Leliana’s agents are ready.” She made a sharp, jerking wave before promptly tucking her hand back against her body. It was too late, he’d caught her irritation.

“What did you expect?”

Adaira could only shrug, letting out a huff as she did so. They had returned from the Kocari Wilds only days ago, and she didn’t want to admit that she had been expecting more time as they waited for the troops to return. “If Corypheus’ forces have largely been destroyed or scattered in the Wilds, why are we worrying about them thinking that we’re weak?”

“It is possible that Corypheus has another large body of forces hidden away somewhere. Leliana’s agents are good, but she isn’t as all-knowing as she would have you think.”

“What about your agents?”

Bull let out a raucous laugh and clapped her on the back. “Just take it from me-- it never hurts to look bigger than you are. Just pack your things. He’s been losing his mind in Skyhold. He’s been here more than a month, remember.” Then, shoving past her, he threw his arms up in greeting, shouting for his Lieutenant’s attention.

* * *

Adaira shifted in her saddle, turning to search the gathered faces. Chargers, all having traded their standard armor for uniform metal bearing the Inquisition’s eye. It was a touch jarring, seeing their familiar faces in different colors, but their enemies wouldn’t know the difference. A man approached, catching her eye. His walk was still stiff, but with a few potions from Stitches and Elan, he was moving on his own.

“Well?” He held out his hands, but wasn’t able to lift them very high yet. “What do you think?”

Adaira shrugged, frowning as she looked him over. “I’d say it’s definitely an improvement from the Kirkwall armor.” She paused before quirking a weak half-smile, and he wet his lips, looking away.

“You’re still nervous.” He looked back to her, hands coming to rest on his hips.

“The last time we were sent out you nearly died, and it’s been two months since then. Your bones are hardly healed, and the cold--”

“I can do this. Let me do this.” He interrupted her, tone sharp.

“I didn’t-- am I not sitting here with rattles on my boots?” Adaira pulled her foot from her stirrup and shook for emphasis, the dry clattering only serving to irritate her and cause her horse to shift in anxiety. “Are we ready to go?”

Krem pressed his lips into a thin line, but he nodded, looking back towards the Chargers.

“Where’s your horse?”

“I’m walking with the men.”

Adaira frowned, her own lips pressing together as his had, but she said nothing as she turned back around in her saddle and squeezed her heels into her horse’s flanks.

* * *

The journey into the Hinterlands was unassuming. At every campsite the Chargers made, they lit extra fires, put more men on watch than necessary, some stationary while others wandered well into the night. Leliana’s agents joined them in the camps, updating Krem and Adaira on what they had found. Usually nothing, but occasionally hints of Venatori agents they had not been able to find just yet.

The Hinterlands had long been cleared of most rogue mages and Templars, but the region was expansive, with plenty of canyons and caves for people to hide in, and those left alive were skilled at evading detection. The assignment had seemed straightforward enough, but as she stood out from the camp, Adiara couldn’t help but feel like they were being ineffective. After most of her time consumed with actively hunting down enemies, wandering around the Hinterlands felt like a waste, even if it was keeping Krem out of trouble.

Hearing steps behind her, Adaira spared a glance over her shoulder to find Krem’s familiar form approaching. She crossed her arms, telling herself it was for warmth. He came to stand next to her, staring upwards, hands clasped behind his back. “How are you doing?” she asked.

“Sore,” he said, giving a small shrug. “Haven’t walked this far in ages, feels like.”

“You could have taken a horse.”

“I have to have help to put my armor on. I don’t think I could get out of the saddle without losing my dignity. And all the extra jostling would only make me worse off.”

Adaira wasn’t sure if the comment was meant to be a joke. “Stitches is keeping you on your feet?”

He gave a low noise of confirmation, and a silence grew between them. “Are you still mad at me?”

It had been weeks since they had left Skyhold, since their disagreement had begun, and things had improved very little between them. Adaira gave a sharp shake of her head. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Could have fooled me.”

She turned sharply to face him, hands balled into fists against her sides. “I am not. Mad at you. Was not mad at you.” She paused as he continued to look upwards. “I simply cannot understand why you insist on being reckless.”

Krem looked down and back to her, taking a deep breath. “What if our situations were switched?”

“What?”

“What if you had nearly been crushed to death by that demon, and I had to continue on with my duties? Wouldn’t it be hard for you?”

Adaira turned away for a moment, looking at him once again before speaking. “And wouldn’t you prefer that I stay in Skyhold, rather than risk further injury?”

“Would you be able to? Especially knowing that I was out being ‘reckless’?”

“Yes!” She paused, taking in a low breath. “No,” Adaira admitted. “But I’m a Knight Enchanter, and the Chargers don’t have any mages outside of myself, remember?”

Krem let out a low, humorless laugh. “And the Chargers only have one Lieutenant.”

“That’s not funny. What if the situations were reversed and I was refusing to admit limitations and putting myself in needless danger?”

“You already have. Your sister sent you out with the Chargers as soon as she could. You’d never so much as left the tower unless it was to visit the family estate.”

Adaira’s jaw clenched as she stared at him. “I’m not the fool who was nearly crushed to death by a demon.”

“So I should have let him crush you. I should have watched him crush you--”

“So it should be easier for me to watch? Knowing that you’re a hero--”

"Adaira." Krem's tone changed, catching her off guard. He looked down to his boots before bringing his hands forward. “I didn’t come to fight.” He looked back up to her.

“I know. I worry. Too much, maybe.”

“A little.”

Adaira let out a low sigh, relaxing her arms. “Why did you come over here?”

Krem hesitated. "This... may not make a lot of sense. But you know The Chief and I are close, and Qunari don't marry, but they-- they do do this other thing, and I had him-- when we killed the dragon, we-- we stole some teeth--." He paused, drawing in a deep breath to settle himself. "When Qunari are serious about their commitment to someone, they chop a dragon's tooth in half, you know how they are, and they make it into a necklace, and... Both wear half. Something about always being together even when they're apart." He uncurled a hand, revealing the paired necklaces he had so haltingly described.

"You got Bull and yourself matching friendship necklaces?" She teased, and Krem let out a tension-relieving huff of laughter.

"They're for us," he corrected, looking down at the jewelry again. "If-- if--."

"They're lovely," Adaira interrupted. "I take it you grabbed one of the smaller teeth?" She asked, lifting one of the pair from his palm as he turned to face her fully.

"Bull said I should take the biggest one I could find, but something the size of your head didn't seem quite right."

"Qunari," she mused, turning the tooth over in her hand, inspecting its polished surface before reaching up to slip the cord over Krem's head. "I think it's fitting." She smiled. "Mages aren't supposed to marry, anyway."

Krem let out a snort as he carefully lowered her necklace over her head with some assistance and lifted her hair out. "I'm Tevine. Our mages marry all they want."

"Ohh, but then I'd be Adaira Aclassi, and that just sounds silly."

"And you think Cremissius Trevelyan sounds better?"

"I do," she said with a grin, leaning close. "Fiendish rogue. Chasing a noble woman for her titles and lands."

"Don't forget your magic, very important to us Vints." His lips quirked into a grin before he leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. “So, you aren’t mad at me anymore?”

“I was never mad at you,” she said, giving him a sharp poke and leaning away. “But that doesn’t mean you’ve gotten yourself out of trouble, either. Now, get to your tent. You can’t tell me Stitches hasn’t ordered you to bedrest.”

“The cold is bad for my injuries. Come keep me warm?”

Adaira laughed, taking his hand. “People are talking enough with you living in my quarters.”

Krem let out a low chuckle and shrugged. “So? What’s your sister going to do? Send us away? Tell the Chief? Send Mother Giselle after us? Oh no.”

“Well, I suppose there aren’t any other Towers to send you to.”

* * *

The next morning was frigid, with a thin coating of ice having formed over the ground, which crunched beneath Adaira’s boots as she emerged from the tent. The sun had yet to fully rise over the mountains, leaving the valley, and their camp, wanting for a heat source. She crossed her arms over her chest against the chill, blinking slowly as she attempted to adjust to the sudden change in both light and temperature. The fire was low, little more than embers that spewed weak sparks as she poked at the remaining wood with a boot.

“Do you need more wood?” Krem’s voice came from the tent, and Adaira turned, surprised to find Krem standing outside, tying the front of his gambeson.

“You should still be resting. It’s too cold for you out here.” Adaira frowned, but Krem only frowned back, waiting for an answer.

“Lieutenant!” Adaira turned to find one of Leliana’s agents approaching quickly, a folded note in his hand. He nodded to her as he came closer. “Lady Trevelyan.” He seemed uncertain as he stopped, glancing between the two of them. “We’ve found something you should see.”

Krem motioned for the scout to come closer, holding his hand out for whatever he was holding. Adaira approached as well, curious now. “It’s a map. We found it on a Venatori mage.”

“You found a Venatori mage?” Adaira frowned.

“We were able to surprise an encampment just before the sun started to come up. They were too busy counting our numbers to notice us sneaking up on them.” The scout grinned, despite Adaira’s continued frown. “With the Chargers that were helping us scout, and all the campfires you had set, they never even knew we were there.”

“Do you know what this map is?” Krem looked up to the scout, as he held the map out to Adaira.

“They were searching for something.” Adaira’s frown deepened as she looked at the map. “Whatever they were searching for, they thought it was nearby. Perhaps we should see about finding it for ourselves.”

“Corypheus has been looking for some interesting things, if rumors about what happened at the Temple are to be believed,” Krem agreed. “It might be worth it. We should report to your sister first, see what she thinks.”

“Corypheus had his forces looking into all sorts of ruins-- in the Hissing Wastes, in the Arbor Wilds...” Adaira paused. “Do you still have scouts looking for other Venatori? If they were looking for something, there might be more than one encampment.”

The scout nodded.

“Any serious injuries? Should we find another encampment, do we have enough men to eliminate them?”

The scout nodded again. “Yes. We’ll keep searching and report back any further information.”

Krem nodded before turning back into the tent, Adaira following behind him. “It’s a good thing we’re so close to skyhold. Our message to your sister won’t take long to get to her, and her response shouldn’t take much time to get back to us, either.”

“We know there are Tevinter ruins, or... at the very least Astrariums in the area. There’s always the chance for Elven ruins, as well, I suppose. I wouldn’t expect anything of significance in this area, though. I wonder what they were looking for.” Adaira stood next to the small table, staring at the map as Krem began to pen his message.

* * *

Adanna had sent a small contingent of soldiers South from their post at the dam in Crestwood in response to the map. They had joined the Chargers and Leliana’s scouts, though there had been no more sightings of Venatori in the area. Adaira stared at the map as she walked, the marked valley only a few hundred yards further from where they were.

“That’s probably not advisable.” The familiar voice came from her right, and she spared a glance from the map. “We all know where we’re going.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little odd that we haven’t found anymore Venatori?” Adaira frowned, tucking the map away.

“The Inquisition has had a significant presence in the Hinterlands since this mess began. It would be hard for Corypheus to maintain a significant force without us knowing.” Krem shrugged.

“They were searching for something. Corypheus sent all of his forces that he could to the Arbor Wilds. The Wastes were apparently swarming with Venatori investigating dwarven ruins. He has a single group of them out here? Why have they been unable to locate this? Or is it that they’ve simply been unable to acquire it?”

“It's possible that there were more but earlier patrols removed them. And with the events in the Arbor Wilds...” Krem trailed off, and Adaira sighed. “We’ll figure it out when we find what they were looking for.”

“I'm still nervous.” Krem took in a sharp breath, but Adaira raised a hand to stop him before he spoke. “It’s your job, I know. But you can’t stop me from worrying.”

Krem nodded, apparently accepting her response. “That means I can worry about you, too.”

“You weren’t already?”

Krem’s brows raised at the question, and his mouth opened as if to answer but closed before anything came out. He looked as though he were going to attempt to say something again, but a shout from a forward scout caught his attention. Adaira frowned after him as he picked up his pace, leaving her behind.

She crested the hill moments after he did. The valley that creeped out below them was narrow and low. It hardly looked like a place anyone would want to build anything, but Adaira had her reservations about building in the Hissing Wastes, too, and yet her sister had insisted on taking up residence in an old fort.

A dwarven statue jutted out of the side of the sharply steeped mountainside, hammer raised above its carved head in triumph. If there was anything of interest in the valley, that was likely it, though Adaira had little interest in poking around underground ruins. She took in a breath, hands on her hips as she watched the scout Krem was speaking with motion to the statue. Of course they were going in.

The trip to the mouth of the cave was hard-going. The mountainside was steep, and the path to the cave was littered with loose stones that caused more than one slip as the soldiers made the trek upwards, the looming entrance dark and imposing as it grew closer and closer. When Adaira herself reached the top, she felt almost like turning on her heel and heading home-- an uncomfortable warning crawled up the back of her spine. The first room was an antechamber, larger than many she had seen previously, and she had to wonder what kind of place this had been previously.

Adaira held her hand out to slow those behind her as she approached the door, failing to notice the scout that was already working at the lock. There was a push coming from behind the door, a ripple that she could feel-- a crease worn into the fade by time and the pressure of what was inside.

“Torches.” Adaira heard Krem behind her. The footfalls behind her were heavy, slower than she expected, and it wasn’t until there was a hand on her shoulder that she startled, turning back to face him.

“Demons. There’s something on the other side.” She blinked before she shook her head. “That must be what kept the Venatori from taking whatever’s inside. They must have known they didn’t have a large enough force. Or they weren’t strong enough. Whatever it is, it’s old, Krem. Ancient.” Adaira shook her head again, this time more urgently. “I don’t know if we have enough men.”

Krem wet his lips as he thought, looking back to the still-gathering forces. “We have to try.” He turned his attention back to her. “Corypheus wanted whatever’s in there enough to keep his forces out here despite grievous losses. It could be another mirror.”

Adaira took in a low breath, weighing her options. The idea that Krem might be overblowing their need to face demons so he could prove himself useful again crossed her mind, but so did the thought that she might be giving whatever was sealed away within the dwarven vault less standing than it warranted in order to keep from putting him at risk. “Okay.” She nodded, turning her attention back to the door.

There was a low, harsh grating noise as the lock gave. The scout stood, and glanced back to where Krem and Adaira stood. “Are you ready, ser?”

Krem glanced from the scout to Adaira before holding his hand up. “We don’t know what’s on the other side of that door, but the Venatori wanted it. Be prepared for a fight.”

The sound of unsheathing weapons filled the tall antechamber, and Adaira unbuckled her hilt from it’s place on her belt, flicking a hand to cast a barrier spell on those she could reach. Krem gave a nod to the scout, who pulled back the door, the scraping of the door echoing above the group. Adaira took a quick step forward, putting herself between Krem and the door. “I’m the only one who can dispel anything on the other side,” she reasoned, sparing him a glance over her shoulder. If she was going to let him walk into what seemed like an ancient trap, she was at least going to go first.

The air inside was clammy-- damp, bone-chilling, and entirely wrong like something was dead or dying nearby. The valley outside might have been cold as well, but there was at least sunshine. The light from torches held by soldiers behind her threw uncomfortable, shifting shadows on the walls of the chamber. Adaira’s grip on her hilt grew tighter, but nothing had jumped out of her yet. Still, she couldn’t help but feel as though a demon might materialize at any moment. There were no eyes glinting back at her from the shadows as far as she could tell, but that convinced her of little.

The back of the chamber had been walled off, perhaps due to darkspawn. What area was left appeared to have been used as a storage room, as far as Adaira could tell, though the rotting crates and crumbling chests pressed against the far wall were clearly not of dwarven origin. There was a raised section of the floor in the center, surrounded by four pillars, which had been left clear. Perhaps whomever had stored their goods there had rested in the center. She waved behind her, and the shuffling steps announced the influx of soldiers into the room, their torches throwing more light into the room, but that hardly helped. “I don’t-- trust it. The room.” She motioned as furtive soldiers moved in. “Something’s wrong.”

Krem cast a look around the room, skeptical. “If the Venatori were looking for what’s in here, then it may have been an old cache used when--.”

Adaira tuned out the rest of what Krem said, watching as a soldier tilted his torch towards an ancient brazier fastened to one of the pillars. “Wait!”

It was too late-- the fire had already caught, releasing a harsh, green energy that pulsed out as a screech filled the chamber, forcing several of the soldiers that had made their way inside to drop their torches and cover their ears. Flames sprung up in the other three unlit braziers as the pulse of magic reached them, each of them lighting with sick green frames. Veilfire. As the screech continued, echoing in the chamber, the air in the center of the room glowed, green at first but quickly progressing into a blinding white. A single spidery leg appeared first, jutting out of the narrow crack as if testing the water before it was followed by a second, and then shortly the rest of the creature’s body. It hovered, six sharply-jointed legs flaring, lower body dangling as though it were dead weight.

The demon hovered for a moment, blotting out the blazing light from the crack in the middle of the room before it screamed again. The sound was shrill and grating, and Adaira threw out her hand, a blast of magic shoving the creature back and interrupting the horrendous sound long enough for Krem to shout, “Everyone out!” The room was filled with the sound of the soldiers fleeing, Adaira herself following the last of them into the larger antechamber.

A frustrated screeching noise could be heard in the smaller room, and the sound of the demon’s legs scrambling against the walls before everything fell silent save the heaving breaths of the anxious soldiers. A creeping, black smoke filtered along the floor from the room, towards the boots of the gathered soldiers, causing them to step back in anxiety as it curled and billowed. There was another screech, low at first, as if it were far off, but it increased in volume until it was nearly deafening. The air in front of the door wavered, as if heated, before rippling, the smoke being drawn back to the ripple, which solidified into the demon.

“Shit.” Adaira heard a low voice utter. There was a thrum as Adaira made a motion with her hand, casting a barrier up around those closest to her. Just as Adaira finished her motion, the demon screeched again, its legs flaring out as it jerked forward towards her. Her spirit sword came up in a flashing arc, slicing at the monstrosity’s legs, but it dodged to her side, attention immediately focused on another soldier. It swiped one ungainly, clawed hand out, knocking the man from his feet and into several of the others gathered.

Out of the corner of her eye, Adaira caught sight of something else crawling out of the crack in the storage room. “There’s more!” The floor began to glow the same sickly green as the flames had been, the air around them rippling and twisting as well. “Get away from--” Adaira’s warning was too late. Demons burst up from the floor, gangly and twisted in appearance, knocking several groups of soldiers off their feet.

With the soldier’s armor in such close proximity to the demons, lightning was out of the question, but her barrier spell had caught the attention of the demons before. She cast it once more, and the fear demon turned its eyeless face back to her, too-sharp teeth gnashing before it flew at her once more. She rebuffed it once more with another blast of force, knocking its claws aside.

“Focus on the terrors-- Adaira and I will handle whatever this thing is,” Krem called out, taking a swipe at the demon’s spider-legs. His sword cracked against one of the demon’s legs even as it was turned aside and the monster’s maw gaped open in a screech, but the sound was lost amongst the screams of the other demons and the sound of battle. “Opposite sides-- it can’t watch us both at once.” Krem made a short motion with his free hand and Adaira shifted, moving around to pin the demon between them. It’s eyeless head swiveled back and forth, teeth clattering. Adaira brought its attention to herself first with a thrust, causing it to snarl at her before letting out another screech when Krem’s blade sliced through several of its spidery legs.

It swept itself aside and out of their range, clenching bony fists. Her stomach clenched as she took in the familiar sight. “Krem, it’s summoning--” Adaira’s warning died as she turned to look at Krem, who was already staring at something, wide-eyed, as if she hadn’t even spoken. Adaira turned her attention to the demon, only to find it surrounded by a handful of shambling forms, charred and twisted, features twisted into silent screams. She had no idea what form they would have taken for Krem, but he had to assume it was something just as horrifying. Still, the hum of the blade in her hand kept Adaira grounded. They weren’t real, and she had fought them before.

She moved forward, cutting through the first of the fearlings with a quick slash. Her mother’s shape fell. The second was her twin, thrown off balance and then ended with a quick jab of the blade. She stepped forward again, but was jerked back by her ankle, knocked to the floor and dragged, her armor scraping and catching against the stone floor. She rolled, finding a half-translocated terror dragging her towards the pit it was crawling out of. Adaira kicked, catching the monster in the side of its head, but it snarled at her and jerked her closer as it fully materialized. Its free hand drew back to bear down on her, but her spirit blade was quicker, humming back into existence before she slashed, severing the thin limb. A thrust into its skull caused it jerk, form only lasting a moment longer before it broke up, essence filtering away.

Adaira pushed back up from the ground to find Krem storming towards the fear demon again, no sign of the fearlings left. She moved toward the demon too, pinning it between them once more. She slashed with her spirit blade once she was close enough, but as if it could feel the ripple in the fade caused by her blade, the demon swept back and away, closer to Krem.

It whirled on him, remaining legs flaring outward before it’s too-long arms reached out. Adaira slashed this time, spirit blade cutting deep into the demon’s back. It spun again, faster than she would have thought possible, throwing out an arm that was longer than she expected. The blow caught her in the chest, knocking her back and off her feet. Her barrier was gone, she could tell by the jab of stone against her side. The demon turned back to Krem, throwing out a burst of force that flicked green against Krem as he stumbled as well, his sword clattering to the ground. Even without seeing its mouth, Adaira could hear the hiss that came from the demon as it loomed over him, arm whipping back to strike. She scrambled back to her knees, but knew she wouldn’t reach the demon in time.

“Krem!”

She didn’t know if it would work-- she’d never tried to stop time in the field. Still, she threw her hand out, willing the world around the demon to slow, for the demon itself to slow. Krem had thrown up an arm to protect against the blow, but when no blow came he looked back, and then to Adaira. “Kill it!” She could feel the demon struggling against her magic, to put its reality back, to be able to deal the final blow. “You have to kill it.”

Krem gave a sharp nod before lunging for his sword. The blow had taken out his barrier, she was certain, and she was sure the fall had caused a significant amount of pain. Still, he snatched up his sword as he scrambled back to his feet and swung, up and deep into the demon’s side. There was one last thrash against her magic and Adaira let go, dropping the hand she had held up to keep her focus. The sound the monster released rattled her bones, but Krem held steady as it reached for him, viciously clawed fingers grasping at his armor even as its legs spasmed and twitched. Adaira was up again, closing the distance between them.

“Don’t move,” she warned, her spirit blade lighting up the dim area before sinking deep into the demon’s narrow body, jutting out the other side. The demon spasmed again, head lolling before it dematerialized back into black smoke that seemed to seep through the stone floor of the chamber. Adaira stepped back, watching the smoke disappear before looking up to Krem again. His breathing was labored, and he looked pale, even in the blue light of her sword.

“Come on,” he huffed, tilting his head, “we’ve got more work to do.”


	15. Doom Upon All the World

The terrors were destroyed with no lack of effort-- most of them seemed craftier than the one Adaira had killed by herself, managing to make the worst of things with their ability to teleport and attack at soldiers from any angle. The party’s potion stores were mostly depleted by the time the battle was over, and when Adaira kicked open the crates and chests stored in the smaller chamber, she was almost disappointed there wasn’t more simple gold amongst the prizes. There were a few schematics and writings that were certainly of great academic value, but little they would be able to use immediately, time and the damp chill of the room having ruined anything that it could. The march back to camp had been longer and more laborious than she had anticipated as well, and it was well past nightfall before they had been able to transport everyone safely.

When she had finally been able to procure food for herself and Krem, Adaira carried the two bowls back to his tent, pushing the flap aside and letting out a low breath as the wind was cut. “I brought your dinner.” She motioned with one of the bowls before frowning. He was still in bits of his armor-- which Adaira had to imagine was rather uncomfortable.

Krem looked up from his table, blinking slowly, his hand clutching a quill. “Thank you.”

“You look tired.” She placed the bowl on the table next to him, watching his face. There were bags beneath his eyes, and his color hadn’t completely returned. “You took a hard fall, too.”

Krem turned in his seat, placing the quill on the table and taking the bowl Adaira held out to him. “I am tired,” he admitted after a long moment of staring at the liquid. “I’m having trouble reaching some of the buckles.” He made a vague motion to his chest.

Adaira watched him for a moment before placing her bowl on the desk and taking his to do the same. “All right. I’ll get you out of it. Arm up”

“I do like the sound of that.” Krem’s lips parted in a tired grin. Adaira leaned in, pressing an amused kiss to his forehead before waiting for him to do as she requested. Krem paused before lifting an arm to just below shoulder level.

“That’s as high as you can go?”

Krem nodded, looking sullen.

Adaira nodded in return before leaning in to undo his buckles, stooping so he could rest his hand on her shoulder. “It’s your ribs, then?”

There was another long pause before Krem answered. “And my back. And my feet. It’s been so long since I was in the field.” Adaira let out a low hum in agreement before moving to the other side. “I suppose you were right to worry.”

Adaira hummed again. “I think trusting you got better results than fretting over you. Were you able to take the potions Stitches has you on?”

“Yeah, I managed that.”

Adaira lifted Krem’s cuirass away, placing it on his armor stand and listening as Krem let out a low sigh. “You know, you could leave the report for the morning.” She came back to the desk and leaned against it, picking up her meal. Krem stared at his bowl for a moment before hunching slightly and spooning some of the stew into his mouth. Adaira watched as he ate, concerned, but unwilling to start another fight over trying to spoon-feed him. An easy quiet settled between them, both more focused on their food than words.

“Tomorrow sounds good. For the report.” Krem straightened slowly after scraping the last of the food from his bowl. His fingers were slow on the ties of his gambeson.

“How did you manage your potions if you can’t lift your arms up?” Adaira frowned lightly at the thought of Krem struggling with the potions.

“I was creative.”

* * *

Sometime after the Chargers had investigated the dwarven ruins in the Hinterlands, the space outside of the Herald's Rest had been made into a loose sparring ring. The dirt was packed and dry, but it clouded around their feet as Krem and Bull moved about, their sparring meant more for exercise and endurance than for true combat practice. In the first few days after their return to Skyhold, Adaira had served as his sparring partner, but as he grew stronger, Krem needed someone much more physical. Someone who didn't have the advantage of Dorian's time magic and didn't risk accidentally shocking him. Of course, that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy watching while not at her studies.

"Get some water!" Bull shoved Krem forcefully, throwing him near the post where Adaira rested. The corner of her lips turned upward in a half grin, and he grinned in turn. The expression lasted only a moment before it dropped, and Adaira's went with it, replaced by a light frown.

Krem ducked through the beams and motioned for her to follow him to the water barrel. She crossed her arms as he ladled out a cupful of the liquid. "I... had a question I've been meaning to ask." Adaira's brows lifted as she waited. Despite having just brought it up, Krem seemed to be avoiding the question, and her gaze. "The Chantry-- they're sure to pick a new Divine after this. Have you thought about what might happen?"

Adaira's frown grew and she shifted her weight. "Yes." Her tone was low, and it was her turn to look away as she let out a heavy sigh. "Leliana has no wish to reinstate the Circles, as far as I can tell. Cassandra, however... And then there are rumors that Vivienne is also being considered." Adaira glanced to the balcony where she knew Vivienne was. "I am a Knight Enchanter. I do not have to be confined to a Circle."

Krem took another drink of water, eyeing the ring. "That doesn't mean that you'll be free to do as you please. I can't imagine you'll be given special dispensation to tag along with a mercenary band."

"The Inquisition won't be immediately disbanded-- there is work to be done yet-- tears in the Fade she hasn't yet been able to close. I'll remain here with my sister. I will not be going back to a Circle." Krem nodded, but Adaira continued. "What... About you?"

He paused, looking back to her. "I suppose that's the Chief's decision. Or, rather, the Ben Hassrath's decision," he said before giving a slow shake of his head. "He may receive orders to move on. I think it's more likely he'll be required to stay, but you never can say for certain."

"I'll make sure Leliana passes him some interesting secrets." Adaira forced a smile.

* * *

Adanna shook her head as she stared down at the map, elbows locked as she leaned, rocking back and forth in frustration. "Where is he?" Her voice was a low, angry growl in the quiet of the room. Adaira watched her sister, arms crossed. "He has nowhere to run, we have ruined all of his plans, robbed him of his armies, and the Well." She swung an arm, knocking several markers across the map. Adaira raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

“We know at least that I will be able to defeat his dragon, Old God or not.” Morrigan stood away from the table as well, eyeing the Inquisitor as she always did-- like a cat watching a mouse.

Adanna glanced at her, expression reading to Adaira as not entirely convinced. “That does me no good if there is any other Blighted body nearby that he might be able to steal. And we have to find them first.”

"Your Worship," Leliana ventured as she pushed her way into the room. "I've received reports from my scouts that Corypheus was last seen heading back towards the mountains. He may be just a day’s march away."

"He moves to attack us here?" Adanna straightened. "Which direction will he be coming from?"

Leliana opened her mouth to speak, but was stopped, mouth agape as she stared out one of the windows. Moments later, a deep, resonating boom reached them, and the twins turned to look out the same window. The breach that Adanna had sealed so many months ago was open once more, a sickly black and green vortex twisting the sky once again. "The temple." Adanna gaped before rousing herself from her surprise and turning back toward Leliana. "Find Cassandra, Vivienne, Solas. Tell them to meet me by the front gates. And anyone else who wishes to follow."

Adanna strode around the table, strides rushed and Adaira trailed after her. "Krem-- where is he?"

"Likely at the sparring ring, just outside the main hall."

Adanna nodded, her steps turning into a jog, through Josephine's office and down the main hall. As soon as Adanna's boots touched dirt, she called out, "Krem!"

The man turned, surprised that the Inquisitor was calling for him. "Worship?" He asked, meeting them almost halfway between the stairs and the ring.

“Lieutenant, rally the Chargers to support our companies stationed the valley. I don’t know what you’ll find while you’re there, but I need you to keep whatever forces Corypheus has mustered, or whatever blasted demons that escaped the rift this time from reaching the civilians that have gathered there. Tell Bull to meet me at the gates.”

“Of course, Your Worship.” Krem nodded, glancing to Adaira before turning towards the Herald’s Rest.

Adaira turned to follow, but Adanna caught her arm. “Adaira, I need you with me,” she said, searching her sister’s expression.

Adaira tugged her arm free, frowning. “What for? You haven’t needed me this whole time.”

“I face Corypheus himself. I need the best, the strongest, that I have.”

“You have Madame de Fer herself, you have The Iron fucking Bull, Solas he--” she paused, making a motion, unable to describe what exactly made Solas the best. “He... knows what’s going on. And Vivienne may not agree with your decisions, but she will not let you die. Neither will Bull. Having me along is redundant. I should be with the Chargers, protecting them.” Adanna blinked rapidly, putting her hands on her hips, a stance that was mirrored an instant later by Adaira, and a silence stretched between them. “That isn’t what this is about,” Adaira said, voice lower than before.

Adanna swallowed before answering, dropping her hands. “No. It isn’t. I don’t-- need Madame de Fer. I need my sister. We are facing a monster-- I am facing a monster I watched die and force himself into the body of a dead Warden. I am trusting my fate to a Witch of the Wilds who has a new ability granted to her by an ancient, unexplainable, mystical power, and I am supposed to believe that this will give her the ability to defeat an Archdemon, or whatever that accursed dragon is.” Adanna threw up her hands and looked away, letting out a low breath.

“Fine,” Adaira said in a quick huff, causing Adanna to look back up to her, and Adaira nodded. “I’ll go with you. Just let me tell him.”

Adanna searched her sister's face for a sign of dishonesty, but she seemed satisfied after another moment, and nodded. "Be quick."

Adaira nodded again and turned, trotting after Krem. She called for him, and he glanced back, slowing his pace to allow her to catch up, but only stopping when she caught his hand. "I will not be going with you."

His brows raised in surprise and he glanced to where Adanna had stood. "You're going with your sister?"

Adaira nodded. "She-- she needs me."

Krem wet his lips, hesitating. "I suppose Dalish will just have to keep our barriers up for this one." He offered a weak smile, and she did the same.

"I would rather be with the Chargers." She squeezed his hand.

"No, the Inquisitor's much more important. She's going to face Corypheus himself. She needs every bit of help she can get." He lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I'll meet you at the Herald's Rest when this is over."

"No pride demons while I'm away, hm?" She moved to press her palm to his cheek and lifts herself up to kiss him, tugging at the collar of his gambeson to bring him closer. "And we still have to decide whose name we're keeping."

Krem gave a soft, amused snort before he turned into her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. "No pride demons, I swear. Now go. We have no more time to waste."

Adaira gave a curt nod, all but grimacing as she pulled her hand away to hurry back toward the stables.

* * *

The temple was dark, save the green glow of the sky when they finally reached it. Inquisition soldiers had already been dispatched to try and prevent Corypheus from achieving his final goal, whatever it might be. The magic released by the tear had caused a number of large chunks of rock to pull away from the ground, floating in a deceptively calm manner. They rounded one last corner to find two demons rushing a number of soldiers. Adanna leapt forward, slicing the narrow monster in two before turning toward the Magister.

“I knew you would come.” Corypheus glowered at the small group, clawed fingers glowing with red magic.

“Do you think that makes you clever?” Adanna shook her head, striding toward the magister. “We are ending this now.”

“And so we shall!” Corypheus tensed before lifting his hands. The ground rumbled beneath them, groaning and cracking as vast chunks of it lifted away. Adaira stumbled, but remained on her feet. The sounds of grunts and metal against stone signaled that some of the others behind her were not so lucky. She scrambled to her sister, a hand on her shoulder helping to balance them both as she cast a barrier around them.

Corypheus scoffed at the magic, curled lip twisting even further. “You have been most successful at--.”

“Do you _ever_ stop talking?”

Corypheus’ look of disgust only grew as he was interrupted, and he took a menacing step forward that was matched by both of the twins. A deep snarl rose up from the stonework behind Corypheus as his black dragon climbed over the destroyed building, beady eyes raking over them.

“Now would be great, Morrigan!” Adanna called out, though Adaira couldn’t remember the Witch ever having joined them. As the beast leapt at them, another dragon caught it mid-flight, knocking the both of them into another broken wall and away into the sky.

“You dare?” Corypheus seemed intent on spewing another monologue, but before he could begin, Adanna turned to her sister.

“Make him shut up.”

“With pleasure.” Adaira stretched out her hand, sparks flying over her gauntlet before leaping away toward the Magister.

* * *

As the confrontation with Corypheus continued, the situation grew only more dire. They had made precious little progress against Corypheus himself who seemed to possess supernatural endurance, and the situation reached its breaking point when Morrigan tore away from the lyrium dragon, unable to continue her fight. Finally freed from its distraction, the monstrosity turned its attention back toward Adanna, sweeping down at them from the sky. Upon its landing, Corypheus again swept away from the battle, isolating himself in frustration.

Luckily enough, Morrigan had already substantially wounded the dragon, and as Adaira’s spirit blade bit into the dragon’s vertebra, she heard the Magister let out a howl-- of pain or further fury she wasn’t sure. Her breaths were labored and her arms burned, to say nothing of the ache in the back of her skull, but as she turned to look toward Corypheus again, she saw Adanna trudging toward the staircase that led to where the monster now stood. She unhooked her last lyrium potion from her belt and downed it. She had very nearly caught up to her sister before the stones shook beneath their feet and a bone-deep crack signaled that their floating chunk of temple had broken once more. Glancing back, her stomach dropped as she saw that Cassandra, Vivienne, and Bull were standing just below where the stairs had split. Cassandra moved to jump, but the gap was already too great, and Bull pulled her back, words lost in a gust of wind.

“We’re on our own,” Adaira turned back to her sister.

Adanna nodded, expression grave and worn beneath her helmet. “It’s time to end this.”

“I’m out of lyrium. We have to make this quick.”

Adanna let out a snort, but nodded again. “Sure. Too bad it isn’t raining, eh?”

“If only,” Adanna agreed as they started up the steps again.

They rounded the corner to find Corypheus hunched, head clutched in his hands, and unaware of their approach. Adanna glanced to Adaira, hesitating for a moment in confusion, but Adaira shrugged, and created a barrier around them with a small wave. The thwump of magic reminded Corypheus of their existence, and his head jerked up, snarl barely evident on his already twisted features. “You will not best me!” His words were accompanied by a volley of violent magic that coalesced into sparking red orbs that hurtled towards the twins.

They split, moving in opposite directions and forcing Corypheus to divide his focus. Electricity cracked between Adaira’s fingers before arcing out to him, catching him square in the chest. He jerked, entire mangled body tensing at once, his mouth agape in a silent scream. The effect lasted only a moment before he turned, staggering toward her and throwing off her magic. “Foolish wretch!” His words were a growl as he stumbled closer. “You cannot hope to match me!”

“Don’t forget-- there’s two of us.” Adanna had come up behind him while he was distracted, and at her words, swung her sword up into his back. It sank deep into his carapace, ripping another twisted scream from Corypheus. He swung around, unnaturally long arm catching her and flinging her to the side even as it tore the sword from her hands.

He turned, attention taken from Adaira and stalked toward Adanna who lay on the ground, dazed by the blow. She rolled onto her back, blinking slowly. Adaira scrambled forward as he loomed over her sister. He might be able to deflect lightning, but she had to pray that her blade was different. Her fingers tightened around the hilt as the blade formed, blue and jagged. It's form was hard to maintain, and it wavered as she approached, but she gave it one last surge of power as she brought it upward, tearing through the arm he had extended toward Adanna. Corypheus screamed and spun away, leaving Adaira to crouch by her sister, urging her back to her feet. “You have to finish it! Now!”

Adanna pushed herself to her feet before pushing Adaira away, her left hand glowing and crackling. She strode toward Corypheus who had dropped to his knees, dazed by blood loss and fatigue. The orb that he had clutched so dearly rolled away from his slack grip, and she caught it. She stepped away from him, just out of reach before lifting the orb toward the sky. She grunted as the Anchor propelled the sphere up toward the Breach and a ripple emanated out through the twisted clouds.

After another moment of staring up at the sky, she turned her attention back to Corypheus. “You wanted into the fade,” Adanna said, voice oddly quiet. “Here's your chance.” She lifted her hand to tear a rift in the air, and in a cloud of green the same sick color as the sky, he disappeared, howling. If he did survive, he would not be coming back.

Moments after, the ground shook beneath them, and Adanna turned to her sister, eyes wide. With the orb broken at her feet and Corypheus banished, there was no power holding up the floating chunks of rock, and they began to plummet, one by one. Adaira ran to her sister, pulling a barrier around them as they fell to the cobbled surface, away from a boulder that crushed the spot where she had been standing. "You just defeated the Elder One. You can't die, crushed by a rock," Adaira teased as she clung to her sister, waiting for their chunk to reach solid ground again.

The free-fall was short lifted, and with one last cataclysmic shudder, the section of temple they had fought in crashed into the ground, the ruins falling apart even further. Everything was silent for a several moments before Cassandra's voice broke the air. "Inquisitor! Are you alive?"

Adaira rolled first, hauling her sister up onto her feet as well. Adanna groaned, wincing as they hobbled towards the other woman's voice. "I'm here! I'm alive," Adanna lifted her free arm to wave. Cassandra's face shifted into a look of relief, followed by a warm smile.

"I think she likes you," Adaira teased under her breath.

"Shut up." Adanna suppressed a laugh as she limped down the steps. "Let's-- let's get back to Skyhold."


	16. Amata

Adaira sat in Krem's usual chair in the Herald's Rest, rolling the tankard she held between her palms. She had gotten it for the sake of having something to hold, but hadn't been able to take a drink. The forces that had accompanied Adanna to the Temple had returned, but the Chargers had not. She knew it was possible that they were simply helping the civilians, making sure that the wounded were all accounted for. She also knew it was possible that there were more demons than anticipated and things had gone poorly. Her sister sat at one of the long tables, surrounded by her companions, celebrating their victory, none more exuberantly than Bull. Their own injuries had forced them to return rather than take to the valley as well, and Adanna had forbidden Adaira venture to the valley alone, so she waited, though she had refused to remove her armor. It felt like ages, her chest tightening with each growing moment as her mind created a thousand scenarios in which Krem lay dying in the field.

Unable to wait any longer, Adaira shoved herself from her seat, knocking the chair against the wall. She deposited her tankard on a table as she passed, and didn't stop at the sound of her sister calling after her.

"Adaira!" The castle's courtyard was far from quiet, but Adanna's voice still carried. Adanna was at the steps that led down to the main courtyard before her sister caught her by the shoulder. "Where are you going?"

"To the valley!" Adaira threw up her hands in irritation. "Where else would I go?"

"You cannot go by yourself." Adanna shook her head.

"And you are too injured to go with me. I cannot continue to sit here and simply hope." She took another step down the stairs, jerking Adanna with her. "Let me go."

Adanna dropped her arm, sighing before giving a nod. "Fine, go. I would do the same."

"Thank you." The response was curt as Adaira turned, taking down the stairs again. She stopped as she saw another group of individuals make their way through the gates. None of them wore Inquisition helms, and her heart nearly stopped when her mind finally processed that the woman she was staring at was Skinner. "They're back." The words came out in a soft breath, not spoken to anyone in particular before she was running down the stairs.

She pushed her way past those who didn't move out of her way, stopping only when she was able to throw her arms around Krem, their breastplates scraping against one another. Krem pulled back after a moment, taking her face in his hands and kissing her before resting his forehead against hers.

"I was so worried," she admitted, closing her eyes and trying to breathe.

"I know. I'm sorry. We stayed to do one last sweep before we returned. I didn't want to leave anyone in danger."

"You don't have to apologize." She gave a slight shake of her head, placing her hands over his. "It's good that you did what you did."

"Amata." She felt Krem take a deep breath, and opened her eyes again. "Marry me?" The question was soft, sounding like it almost went unsaid.

"What?" Adaira jerked back without meaning to, caught off guard.

Krem hesitated, wetting his lips. "Marry me?" He repeated the question, sounding uncertain.

"Yes," she said, voice quiet at first. "Yes!" She grinned, watching as Krem's face shifted from unease to relief, and finally excitement. "Oh-- I don't have a dress."

"A dress, your armor, a flour sack-- it doesn't matter much to me. As long as you don't expect me to wear that thing from Halamshiral." He shook his head, his own features breaking into a wide smile. "Tomorrow, in the garden?"

"Tomorrow." She nodded. "My mother will be so disappointed that she missed it."

"And not that you're marrying a mercenary?"

"At least you aren't a bloodthirsty Tevinter. Now the scandal that would cause is absolutely unimaginable."

"That is true, but it could be worse-- I could be some Marcher who races cheese wheels for fun."

"Oh, but you will be." She gripped the collar of his armor, pulling him back down for a peck. "Come. The tavern isn't full yet, and my sister will kill me if I don't tell her immediately."

* * *

A set of Enchanter's robes were the best Adaira could do on such short notice, though she was pleased to realize they were in better shape than she had hoped. They hadn't been worn in the months since she had sent for them after the destruction of Haven and the loss of her last set. They felt odd, and she couldn't help a flash of irritation at their length and impracticality as she made her way toward the garden, Adanna close behind her. "I don't know how I ever bothered with these." She tugged at the cuffs of her sleeves, anxiety making her fidget as they walked.

"I'm not sure either," Adanna agreed. "I had everyone clear out of the garden, just for you. Josephine suggested we wait, get a few nobles, celebrate the marriage along with our victory over Corypheus, but--."

"Maybe you should ask her to wait so you can celebrate your own marriage. How’s that going, by the way? Have you swept her off her feet yet?"

Adanna snorted, but said nothing until Adaira stopped short, causing her to run into her. She let out a low grunt of disapproval before glancing further along the covered walkway that ringed the edges of the garden. Krem stood by the arched entryway into the garden proper, his parents on either side. Bull was behind them, an unabashed grin covering his face. Krem looked up upon hearing footsteps, his expression one of relief. "Go." Adanna gave Adaira a soft push, and her steps started again, hurried this time as she held out her hand.

He took her hand and leaned in, kissing her on the temple. "Mother Giselle is waiting."

"I haven't worn robes in so long I almost forgot how to tie everything in place." Adaira glanced down at her garments and then back up to Krem, an easy smile taking over her features as she entwined their fingers, anxiety falling away.

He returned the expression before kissing her again. "Come on." He tugged her hand gently and they started across the garden toward the pavilion, where Giselle was waiting, their family members following behind them.

Mother Giselle smiled as they came to a stop in front of her. "Since I do not believe there will be any objections, if you would simply make your promises." Mother Giselle smiled and motioned for them to proceed.

They turned to face each other, and Adaira took a low breath. "I swear unto the Maker and Holy Andraste to love this man for the rest of my days."

Krem smiled, repeating the sentence back to her. "You've already given me a ring, so now it's my turn." He fished a ring out of his trouser pocket, which he then slipped onto her finger. It was simple silver, much like the one she had left behind with him. She marved at it regardless, until Bull interrupted the moment.

“Oh, come on! Kiss her!”

The couple laughed, but stepped closer together to kiss, Krem’s hand coming up to cradle Adaira’s cheek. It was slow and easy, and Adaira could have sworn she heard a sniffle come from her sister, but they were interrupted by the sound of the garden door opening and a shout.

“Your Worship!” Adaira turned to see a soldier rushing around the pathway to them, waving a letter in her hand.

“I’m busy,” Adanna snapped, refusing to look back at the woman.

“It’s from the Empress herself, my Lady.” As if realizing what was happening in the garden, the soldier slowed, ducking her head slightly as she held out the letter for Adanna, who turned after another irritated moment to take the parchment.

She read it quickly, a frown growing over her features. “I suppose this is what I get for leaving him alive. Gaspard is gathering his forces again, and Celene is calling for our aid. Get your armor,” she glanced between Bull, Krem, and Adaira. “We’re going back to Orlais.”


End file.
